#i mean right now i just need a safety net while in between jobs; after that i need to save up to move out of state bc the uh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marmolady · 5 months

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Rosa's first Christmas with the fam

...because it's that time of year, y'all. I don't write much these days, as life is a lot, and I've done most of what I wanted to. But I managed to put out just a wee bit of Christmas Taystela fluff. Well, er, fluff with a side of killing off the yeti.

The Elysian Lodge, La Huerta, 2042

“Rosa, wanna come help me make some Christmas cookies? You can lick the spoon afterwards and everything!”

Auntie Quinn was warm, and friendly, and nice. The least intimidating of all the grown-ups, to Rosa’s mind. So it was an easy decision to say ‘yes’ to making cookies.

“Are we doing them in shapes?” Rosa mumbled into her thumb. They’d made cookies in Christmas shapes one time, when she was in The Home; though the same old kids hogged the green and red icing, and she didn’t really get much of a look-in as a result.

“That’s the plan!” Quinn replied, beaming her welcoming smile. “Erin’s just digging out some cookie cutters.”

Rosa felt her legs turn to lead, even as she wandered over. How many of them were going to be doing this? If all the other, bigger kids were helping out too, it might be hard to enjoy herself….

Quinn must have known this, for she said; “It’ll be a team of you, me, and Erin. E is an absolute whiz at baking-- she’ll help us out with some of the tricky bits!”

Rosa knew that Quinn didn’t really need help; she baked things for her job. She must just like making the kids feel good. That was pretty nice of her. And Erin… if Quinn was the least intimidating of all the grown-ups, then Erin had to be the least intimidating of all the kids. She was gentle, with a soft, tinkling laugh. She looked out for the little ones, and that included Rosa. Erin was definitely Rosa’s favourite of her three cousins.

“Me, you, Erin… and Princess Daisy?” she suggested, holding up her ragdoll fairy.

Estela came and sat down at the breakfast bar. “Or,” she said, “I could look after Princess Daisy for you. I have a feeling it might get a little messy.”

Shyly, Rosa snuggled up to her mom, pressing the doll into her lap. “She’s gonna watch?” Which meant, of course, Princess Daisy and Mama Estela. It was a ton easier to have fun with the safety net of mom close by.

“We’ll be right here if you need anything.” Estela spoke firmly, as though she meant every word. Rosa always trusted that she did… and so she relaxed into a morning of baking fun among trusted friends-- while her mom watched with a mug of cocoa and a ragdoll fairy in hand.

In the Elysian’s main lounge, Rosa’s other mom was slumped in an armchair, sipping her own steaming cocoa.

“I guess you’re not as young this time round… gotta be feeling it different,” Diego consoled. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not doing great.”

Taylor groaned, but gave her old friend an appreciative glance. “I don’t know if ‘great’ is the word I’d use, buddy, but thanks. What I do know is that I can’t wait for home-schooling to be behind us. Maybe we’ll take her out for a year when she’s older like we did with Liv, but for now, this just isn’t working.”

Michelle sat down with them, draping herself over the arm of the plushest couch. She, Quinn, and their family, were spending a rare Christmas on La Huerta, keen to make the most of the opportunity while the growing kids still wanted to spend time with their moms. Between a busy work life as a neurohospitalist and a home life as mom of a fifteen and eleven year old, she knew all too well what it was to teeter on the edge of burnout.

“Please, you’re doing amazing,” she scoffed. “Last time we were here, I don’t think I heard a word out of Rosa’s mouth the whole two weeks; you wouldn’t guess it to look at her now. You guys have made her feel secure, and it shows. Now you’ve got that attachment, I know it’ll just get easier.”

“Thanks…. Thanks, Michelle,” Taylor said quietly. “A lot of the time, it’s ‘one step forward, two steps back’, but we’re getting there.”

“That’s all you can do,” Grace assured kindly. “One step at a time. Just take some moments to come up for breath as you go.”

Taylor let herself sink deeper into her chair, hearing Rosa’s giggles floating from the nearby kitchen. Where it mattered, they were doing great. And she damn well deserved that hot mug of cocoa and the relaxed, cosy Christmas Eve she was looking forward to.

__________________

And yet, not even two hours later, Taylor found herself trudging through the snow into a darkening evening, carrying a blanket laden with Christmas cookies that now seemed destined to make up the final meal of a dying yeti. Beside her, Estela had a rugged-up Rosa riding piggy-back.

“You definitely jinxed it, Grace!” Michelle complained, wrapping her arms ever tighter around herself to brace against the cold. “‘Quiet uneventful holiday’…. was that really too much to ask?”

“I must have forgotten to touch wood,” Grace admitted good-naturedly. She and her family had spent rather more time on La Huerta in the intervening years than had Michelle and Quinn’s clan, so much so that she barely batted an eyelid at an impromptu expedition into the mountains. So long as they weren’t going far, she was confident all would be well.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” said Isla resolutely. She’d been seriously injured by one of La Huerta’s legendary guardians in the past… and this was a goddamn yeti. Probably in pain, and definitely dangerous.

Quinn put an arm around her daughter. “One of us can take you back to the lodge-- there’s no pressure on you to come along.”

“No!” Isla scowled. “Not that I don’t trust you to keep Con safe or anything, but you and Mom are gonna be busy with the yeti-thing. If Conor’s crazy enough to go sniffing around a dying monster, I’m going to be there looking out for the doofus.”

Conor, as they spoke, was up at the front of the small pack, hanging off Liv and Jeimy as they led the way to where they found the ailing yeti.

Taylor was grateful that Rosa was right within arm’s reach, and sensibly cautious of the unknown-- for in this case, Rosa’s ‘unknown’ was something best kept at a respectful distance. They’d be there to comfort Arktos, but by no means would the children be placed in harm’s way.

“Con’s not getting anywhere near the yeti, Isla,” she assured. “All of you kids are going to sit right back and keep your distance.”

“Thanks Auntie Tay.”

“Typical,” Michelle laughed, shaking her head, “people always listen to Taylor…. You know I should bring you in to talk to some of my patients one of these days….”

Taylor caught her old friend’s eye and grinned. “Not on your life.”

Rosa could smell the mammoth beast before she saw it, and instinctively clung tighter to her mom’s neck and shoulders. In front of them at the entrance to a cave, Aleister was settling his teenage girls down, and they were joined by Isla and Conor.

“Woah!” Conor gasped. “She’s bigger than an elephant!”

“Con, sit down, you idiot!” Isla tugged at his jacket.

And as Estela trudged closer to them, Rosa’s jaw dropped at the sight of the creature that had Conor entranced.

Arktos filled the cave from floor to ceiling, even as she lay on her belly. Upon her massive head were two spiralling horns, one of which was broken. Her misty eyes darted over her visitors, and her nose snorted as she sniffed the air.

Estela helped Rosa down from her back. “She wouldn’t want to hurt you. She’s like Furball-- we can communicate with her way more than any normal animal. But she’s also as big as a bus and with horns and claws… so we’ll just keep back here. Are you okay?”

Rosa nodded, but stuck close, overawed. She’s seen some pretty special things on La Huerta, but nothing quite so magical as the storied yeti-bear. And the yeti-bear needed help….

“Is Auntie ‘Chelle gonna make her better?” she asked in whisper.

Taylor’s face clouded, but she didn’t shy from the question. “I don’t think so, darling, no.” She could sense it in her bones, as though a soft hum of consciousness wa being shared between herself and the yeti; it was simply Arktos’ time. “Arktos has lived for a long time, and she’s now very sick, and very tired. I think she’s ready to die.”

Rosa responded with just a quiet “Oh,” and sat back in Estela’s lap.

“What we’re going to do,” Taylor said, “is to make her comfortable at the end. Auntie Michelle’s medicine will do that. And those cookies you kids brought-- I reckon Arktos will love them. Auntie Quinn and I will do the feeding, okay? We’ve had the most connection with her over the years; it’s probably safest.”

So, most of the group settled just out the mouth of the cave, giving enough space so the yeti was not to feel crowded. There they kept a quiet vigil, watching on from a distance, and offering caring thoughts. Over time, Conor edged closer, quickly pulled back in line by Liv, who’d taken it upon herself to help Isla with keeping him safe while their mothers were busy.

“She’s old and sick, Con,” Estela said flatly, “but she could still snap you like a twig. Anyway-- she doesn’t know you. Let her die with peace.”

Con made a show of planting himself firmly down where he was meant to be, right between Isla and Liv. “Do you think she likes singing?” he asked after a moment’s contemplation. “We could sing some Christmas carols or something. Not that she knows it’s Christmas Eve or anything….”

Isla’s eyes lit up. “Should have brought your guitar.” And then, she began softly singing the first holiday tune to come to her head; ‘White Christmas’.

The others followed suit; first Conor and Liv, and Jeimy who would turn down a sing-along when hell froze over, then Grace and Erin joined in, then everyone else. Only Rosa remained silent, too self-conscious to do more than mouth the words to the songs she knew. She caught a warm smile from her Mama Taylor in the cave; maybe Arktos really liked the singing.

“So, Rosi… what have you asked Santa for?” Isla asked a while later, clearly hoping some quiet conversation would help the younger girl through what had become a sombre evening-- it was, after all, a lot for a little kid of seven to deal with.

Rosa was surprised. Isla was fifteen-- surely she didn’t believe in Santa still. Even her younger brother, Conor, would have wised up by his age. Did Isla just think Rosa was such a baby to believe in something that was clearly made-up?

“Err…,” she said softly, not wanting to be rude, as it was pretty obvious that Isla was being nice, “I don’t really believe in Santa”.

If he was real, he’d probably do more to help kids with no homes. Kids like Rosa-- well, Rosa until now.

“Oh-- that was a big assumption I made, huh? Are your moms gonna do ‘Santa’ then, or just keeping things real?”

Rosa glanced back to her Mama Estela… who was better than any make-believe old bearded dude to her mind. “Moms said Santa can be a game we play, but I know it’s just them.”

“That’s what we do!” Conor chimed in. “If we wanna get presents from the big guy, we go through the motions of believing, even though it’s obviously Mom and Mama.”

Erin, sitting beside Rosa, grinned. “Dad used to dress up and everything!”

Estela snorted affectionately. “A bit thin to be convincing, but that probably would help for going up and down chimneys.” And the twins chuckled.

“Thank you,” Aleister sniffed. “I can’t say I’m sorry that particular joy of parenthood is behind us. I certainly was not convincing, and I don’t believe Imogen bought it for even a second.”

“Nothing gets past you, mija,” Estela said warmly to her niece.

Then, the gigantic bear groaned, and the kids fell silent again, not wanting to disturb her.

Rosa was entranced by Arktos. The yeti looked like a monster, but she was calm and gentle as Taylor, Quinn and Michelle tended to her, carefully taking those special Christmas cookies from their hands, and letting them hold her paw as a comfort.

“Is she hurting?” Rosa whispered, so only her mom could hear.

Estela frowned. “I don’t think so. Michelle gave her something to take the pain away, or at least making it a lot less. She probably feels just… exhausted, like her whole body is heavy.”

Rosa trusted that to be the case, for her Mama Estela never lied to her, even to make her feel better.

________________

It was not much later when Arktos breathed her last, the silence broken only by Furball’s whimpering at her colossal paws. Quinn sat up straight, her face wet with tears, and gestured for the others to join them to say goodbye.

Waiting her turn after the older kids, Rosa held her mothers’ hands. Her Mama Taylor was teary.

“The yeti-bear was your friend?” she whispered.

“Oh--” Taylor wiped her face. “Yeah, I guess she was. A long, long time ago, she even let me ride her into battle against some seriously evil bad guys. She climbed up the side of a big old hotel building with me hanging on! But mostly… I’ve always been happy knowing she’s out there in the mountains. It felt like she’d keep us safe if ever we needed it. She helped a few of us out over the years.”

“Mrrrp,” Furball confirmed.

The others headed out of the cave, and Rosa felt suddenly nervous. She watched on as her moms lay their hands upon the yeti’s shoulder, paying their respects to an old friend. She wasn’t sure she could be brave enough to do the same.

“Night-night, yeti-bear,” she mumbled. Then she dared to let her fingers ever-so-lightly skim Arktos’ thick fur. “I hope your life was happy and nice.”

“I reckon it was,” Estela assured. “And I can tell you this for free; there are worse things than dying of old age, surrounded by people who love you, and being fed cookies. Come on, mi vida. We better leave her in peace.”

Hoisted back up onto her secure place upon her mom’s back, Rosa nestled in. It was a strain to keep her watering eyes open, and tucked up against Estela’s warm coat, she was so cosy….

_____________________

Taylor tenderly pulled up the heavy blanket around her young daughter’s chin. Rosa had barely stirred when they came back up to the suite, their clothes damp from the snow. She’d cried a little, moved by the passing of a magnificent being, and then fallen asleep for a second time, in Taylor’s arms.

It wasn’t the Christmas Eve Taylor’d had in mind. Still, a stocking hung at the end of the bed, already filled, and both moms had left goodnight kisses on Rosa’s forehead, so all was well in the scheme of things. Liv had disappeared off to her own room with Jeimy, for she was all grown up now. Just Taylor and Estela left awake in their cosy suite.

“We’ll just have to break tradition and do the natilla tomorrow,” Estela yawned.

Her little one tended to, Taylor got into her own pyjamas and slipped under the covers. As always, she was drawn by the warmth of her wife’s body.

“I’d been so looking forward to introducing Rosi to the Montoya Family Christmas Eve,” she said, sighing. “What matters is she’s happy, and she is, but she’s already seven… every holiday counts when they grow up so fast. And the sooner family traditions get cemented in for her, the better. She’s gotta be part of it.”

Estela frowned a little. Childhood slipped away, and then it was gone. They’d wanted to give Rosa an evening of simple joys, and somehow they’d ended up introducing her to death instead. They could hope to do better next time round, but life was nothing if not unpredictable. What Estela knew they could do, was be there to soften the bumps in the road as Rosa came upon them.

“The general gist was there,” she admitted. “We stayed up. Ate something sweet-- in this case, shared with a dying yeti. We had family around. I’m pretty sure ‘best laid plans going down the crapper’ is a Montoya family tradition anyway.”

Taylor couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. “True, that. Gotta be the reason for all these grey hairs I’m getting….”

Estela laughed, and brought Taylor closer, kissing her. “Mi amor, you are getting near fifty. You’re gonna have to make peace with the grey hairs.”

Taylor returned the kiss, lingering in the feel of the woman she loved near to her. For all the challenges of motherhood, peace was one thing she didn’t truly need to want for. She had it when Rosa fell asleep, content in the knowledge that her moms were there for her. And she had it in all those years she’d spent with Estela and with Liv, and the more they still had to share.

“Happy Christmas,” she said quietly. “And now, I think we’d do well to take a leaf out of Rosi’s book and get some shut-eye.

Estela kissed her again, then blew one across the room to their slumbering child. “Happy Christmas… goodnight.”

#endless summer #playchoices #estela montoya #estela x mc #rosita montoya

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

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If I Fell For You (Part 4) - Safety Nets

Summary: The reader has her first date with Jensen, a simple dinner at home with him and the kids, but when they get a moment alone, he shares some information about the accident hardly anyone knows. Just as things start to get moving with the pair, Jensen has to head to Canada for filming ahead of schedule but he’s not so sure he can go back to whole weeks away from his family right now...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 5,200ish

Warnings: language, death of a spouse, mention of injury, depression, anxiety, self-worth problems

A/N: Shopping buddies are the best ;) Please enjoy!

________

“Can I help set the table?” you asked the next evening, Jensen shaking his head at you.

“JJ, can you set the table for me?” asked Jensen. She jumped up from the couch and got out silverware, setting an extra spot for you.

“Y/N, are you and dad on a date?” she asked when she finished up. You looked down from where you leaned back against the counter, Jensen chuckling.

“Yes we are sweetie. If this goes well I’d like to take Y/N out on Friday, maybe you guys can go to Uncle Jared and Aunt Gen’s,” he said.

“You should go out with dad,” said JJ.

“Oh I should?” you said, crossing your arms. “Why’s that?”

“Cause he’s strong and handsome and smart and funny and…” she said, holding up her hand and counting on her hand.

“The hair,” he whispered, a smirk crossing your face.

“Oh and he’s only got a few gray hairs!” she said.

“Oh. Well that is interesting,” you laughed, Jensen smacking himself in the face.

“Great hair, JJ. Not gray. Great,” he said.

“You do have gray whiskers,” she said.

“Like...barely,” he said. “See what I put up with? A few teensy tiny little patches in my beard if it grows out.”

“I don’t know if I can date a man of such frail age,” you said. He cocked his head and you laughed, JJ giggling as she went to get the plates.

“Keep it up you two,” he said. You walked over to him, JJ going past with the plates. “Come to tease some more?”

“I was told you’re quite handsome, thought I’d get a closer look,” you said.

“You can have as close a look as you want,” he said, flashing you a wink.

“Calm yourself, Casanova,” you said, reaching up to the cupboard to get another plate for JJ. “Here sweetie.”

“Thanks,” she said. She set it ran back over, hugging you. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said.

“Good,” she said. You bent down and picked her up, resting her on your hip.

“Where’d you think I was going?” you asked. She shrugged and Jensen stopped stirring the pot.

“I don’t know. Wherever you were before. Dad’s a lot happier since you live with us now,” she said.

“Well taking care of you three is hard all by yourself,” you said. You set her down and patted her head. “Go get your brother and sister for dinner.”

“You’re good with them,” he said, stirring the pot again.

“They’re people. Small people that don’t know half of what adults do but still people. Sometimes you gotta treat ‘em like it. Most of the time actually,” you said.

“I talked to her earlier about this whole situation,” he said.

“Besides listing off all your selling points what’d she think?”

“Well apparently she’s in favor of me asking if you’d marry me tonight,” he said.

“Oh. Shotgun wedding. Simple. I like it,” you laughed. He turned his head and smiled, glancing down for a long moment, slowly returning.

“Why doesn’t this situation scare you? The kids, me who has been all over the place lately, not to mention my job, long distance, the shit you get just for-” he said, your hand covering his mouth.

“I didn’t say it’s not a lot, Jensen. It’s scary. Of course it is. Every single one of my relationships has ended badly for one reason or another. Friendships. Family ones. Romantic ones. You’re handsome and you’re so successful and I’m literally a nanny but you said you wouldn’t hurt me. So I’ll trust that you won’t and you trust I won’t hurt you and it’ll work itself out.”

“That simple huh.”

“I’m easy going. Let’s keep it simple,” you said.

“Simple works,” he said as you pulled the pot off the burner before it bubbled over. “Simple definitely works.”

“This is not a good idea,” you said two hours later, the kids in bed, you and Jensen jumping up and down on the trampoline in the yard.

“Oh most certainly not,” he said, landing near you and sending you up. You yelped and landed back down on your bottom, Jensen bouncing again, sending you up again and laughing this time. “Well that’s a cute sound.”

“Boys. Is it taught somewhere that you gotta tease a girl when you like her?” you asked, Jensen pulling you to your feet and bouncing around lightly.

“Right after manly man class, duh,” he said.

“You would have failed, I can tell you right now,” you said. He scoffed and you shrugged. “That’s kinda a really good thing.”

“That your ex? Tough guy all the time?” he asked.

“Not like, to that extent or anything. I had a bad day and I really needed someone and he let me down. He got mad at me for it actually. He called depression a phase I needed to get over with,” you said. He stopped bouncing and you did the same, glancing down. Next thing you knew he playfully tackled you onto the trampoline, rolling to his side and smiling at you.

“Some of my friends have it. One of my best friends does. Jared. If he ever knocks on the door late at night or whatever, let him in.”

“You take care of everyone in your life it seems,” you said.

“You take care of the people you care about, not insult them. Hopefully the ex figures that out someday.”

“How’d you figure it out?”

“I don’t do anything anyone else shouldn’t,” he said.

“Maybe that’s it,” you said. “You’re unapologetically good and you don’t even know how rare that is.”

“It takes up too much energy to be angry or mean or cruel. I’d just rather be happy,” he said.

“You got a lot of friends, don’t you.”

“My fair share,” he said.

“How many would you call close?”

“Maybe ten or so.”

“How many real close?”

“Two or three.”

“How many know what really happened that day? Your wife…” you said. He stared at you and swallowed.

“How do you know?” he asked quietly.

“Because when we met you said she died in an accident but then you said it was her head. You’re holding onto something, something you don’t talk about.”

“She was driving when the aneurysm happened. I was in the car with her. I almost died. It’s seemed easier to lie about that.”

“Who knows?”

“My parents and Jared. They’re the only ones.”

“You ever talk to anyone about it?”

“I went to talk to someone a few times. I’m better now,” he said with a smile. “I don’t share a lot if you may have guessed already. Not to too many people. But you it feels so easy to.”

“Must be special,” you said. He smiled and reached a hand over, twirling a piece of your hair in his fingers. “That why you like me?”

“There’s a lot of stereotypical reasons to like someone and part of that is true in why you choose someone I suppose. But there’s this other part that when you meet someone that you can’t really explain.”

“I get that. I get all of it. My brain always seems to want to go to the bad scenario first I suppose,” you said. You looked up at the black sky, Jensen toying with another strand between two fingers. “I wish it didn’t do that so much.”

“You’re just trying to protect yourself is all,” he said.

“But I come off as pushy and distant,” you said, turning your head. “Like I’m that person that’s cool with everything being casual.”

“Well think of it like this trampoline. It’s the only thing holding us up right now right?” he asked and you hummed. “Well my life, I’ve had thousands of safety nets below me to catch me when I fall so even if I tore through one, there was more to hold me up while the others got fixed. You never had as many to start and I think more of yours broke and there was no way to fix them in time so you kept tumbling through until you got to the ground.”

“Your point?”

“Maybe some people hit the ground and others never do. But the people who hit the ground, as they go back up they can make the best most solid nets in the world to hold them up. One good net beats a thousand flimsy ones.”

“So at what age do I get the wisdom?” you asked, turning your head and smiling over at him.

“You don’t. My job has made me fall through more nets than I wanted to and this year made me realize I might not have a thousand strong nets at the bottom but I just needed one to get by and now I’m working back up. You’re not even close to being down low either. You’ve already had the hardest part of your life. It’s all up from here.”

You leaned over and he lay back on the trampoline, gazing up at you. You lowered your head as he cupped your cheek, pulling you in close until your lips were touching. Part of your mind was reeling from that in itself but the other half knew that was his first kiss since his wife. You inched back but stayed close, Jensen peeling open his eyes.

“You okay?” you asked.

“Very,” he said. You lay back beside him, Jensen letting you go. His hand reached out for yours though and laced your fingers together. “Why’d you kiss me?”

“Wanted to,” you said.

“Cool. I wanted to kiss you too,” he said.

“Alright then.” You stared upwards, the trampoline shifting again. He popped into view propped up on one arm, your head turning slightly. He was flush, even in the dim light. He moved slowly but you let him come to you, a barely there gentle kiss that lingered, a thousand gears going in your head, likely a thousand more going off in his.

“I’m okay,” he said quietly as he pulled back a few inches. Your fingers carded through his hair and he smiled. “I’ll get the hang of this again. I promise.”

“That was more than enough for one night,” you said. “We said slow and we’ll go slow, okay?”

“Sounds good with me.”

Two Days Later

“Y/N, can I have a word with you in my office?” asked Jensen as you were picking up after dinner. You hummed and put the last fork in the dishwasher before following him down to a quieter part of the house. He shut the door behind you and he ran his hand over his face. “This is about work, my work, but it’s going to involve you. Heavily.”

“What’s up?” you asked, taking a seat in a chair. He sat in his by his desk, scrunching up his face.

“My job with that TV show, The Boys, it films in Canada. I’m gonna need to be up there four, maybe five months. The way things used to work with my wife was I would fly back home every weekend or every other weekend. I never went more than 2 weeks seeing the kids. I don’t have to film every day but it’s easier to stay there for the week. But it’s...it’s difficult for me. It’s difficult for them and...they lost one parent this year. I can’t stay away that long for months. I just can’t do it anymore.”

“That’s perfectly understandable,” you said.

“I’d like to temporarily move to Canada while I film. No flying back and forth. The kids can see me everyday and I can see them. JJ’s school still offers remote learning and I’m homeschool certified in a pinch. Twins can do daycare easy. The only issue I have is the same one I originally did. I still need a nanny. Only now in a different country...and it’s gonna be more late nights on the regular.”

“I see,” you said.

“This isn’t what you signed up for so if you don’t want it, that’s okay. I can find a nanny up there and we can try long distance and-” he said before you stood and walked in front of him.

“I’m in.”

“Really? I mean it’s gonna be awhile before we’re back in the states,” he said.

“It sounds like fun.”

“Awesome. I was really hoping you’d say that,” he said.

“So where are we going?” you asked.

“Toronto. Well, near there. I gotta start filming start of February but there’s promo stuff to do in late January,” he said.

“It’s already late January,” you laughed. “When do we have to move?”

“Uh, tomorrow,” he said. “Just got the call a few hours ago. I got a house to rent lined up already.”

“Oh wow. Alright. Uh, what do I need to do exactly?” you asked.

“Keep stuff normal. Don’t worry about cleaning or anything. Maybe box up anything you want to bring and some of the kids stuff. Toys, books, that stuff. I’ll handle their bags. We’ll ship it all up tomorrow and take a flight up at night,” he said.

“Okay, cool,” you said. “Wait I need like, a snow jacket right?”

“We’ll get you set up there with coat and boots and all that,” he said.

“Gotcha,” you said, starting to leave before you spun around and walked smack into his chest. “Wait. I have a lot more questions actually. Like...I don’t have a passport?”

“I know which is why tomorrow morning first thing you’re gonna go down to the post office, get your passport done up and when it comes in, we’ll get it shipped up to Canada,” he said.

“How do I get into Canada though?”

“We share a border with them so we bring your license and birth certificate, you can go right on in no problem,” he said.

“Oh. Okay,” you said. “Wait. I’ve never been on an airplane before. What-”

“Okay,” he laughed. “Take a hot second and breathe and we’ll go from there. I know it’s last minute but it’ll work out. I promise.”

“Y/N,” said Jensen, tapping your shoulder two days later. You hummed and reluctantly turned your head away from staring out the back sliding doors to the snow covered yard and trees around you. “Have you ever seen snow before?”

“No. Not like this,” you said, head going back to staring outside. “It’s something out of a movie.”

“You had that same look on your face when we took off last night in the plane.”

“What’s that?”

“Those little moments where the years fall off and you get that childish joy, like nothing bad has ever happened,” he said.

“I suppose there’s hope for me yet,” you said with a smile.

“Oh there was always that,” he chuckled. He threw an arm over your shoulders and you leaned into him. “Can I still take you out Friday?”

“Who’s gonna watch the kids?” you asked.

“My buddy.”

“Does he exist?” you said, grinning at him.

“Cute,” he said, ruffling your bedhead. “Yes he does exist. How’s Friday night sound?”

“Do I need a dress?” you asked.

“Probably. It’s a nice place,” he said. “My favorite place in Toronto actually. Jeans are perfectly acceptable there though.”

“I’ll pick out a dress today too,” you said. You kissed his cheek and watched them turn an ever so light pink. “You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” he chuckled. “Put your boots and coat on the card I gave you alright? That’s a business expense.”

“Whatever you say boss,” you said. “I’m gonna duck out before the little ones get up. I’ll try not to be gone too long.”

“Take your time. Drive slow in the snow until you get the hang of it, okay?”

“I will. I promise.”

“What the fuck’s the difference between therma heat and therma wear…” you mumbled to yourself, gawking at the glove rack at the store an hour later.

“I think it’s just marketing,” said the guy on the other side. You jumped and managed to knock about five pairs off the hangers. He laughed quietly and peeked his head around. “Didn’t mean to spoke ya.”

“It’s alright. I’m…” you said, the man smiling as you shook your head out. “Um...I…”

“You okay?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You nodded and he smiled. “You sure cause you were just having a life crisis over gloves a second ago and now you can’t seem to form a sentence.”

“You’re Home…” you said, shutting your eyes. “You’re the actor that plays...I’m having a fucking day.”

“Looks like it,” he said, bending down and picking up some of the gloves. He laughed again and you got the ones closest to you, putting them back. “You know it’s like ten degrees outside right? Not exactly sneaker weather.”

“I know. This place looks pretty but it’s worse than a Texas summer almost with how cold it is.”

“I thought you sounded not from here,” he said with a smile. “I’m not from around here either. I do better with the heat myself.”

“Okay um, listen...uh, what’s your name, not Homelander?” you asked.

“Antony,” he chuckled again.

“I’m Y/N. I’m just gonna get the weird stuff out of the way cause…” you said as he smiled but stepped back a foot. “Yeah. Um I’m a fan but like...do you know Jensen Ackles?”

“Why?” he asked.

“He’s my boss...and my boyfriend but that’s another story. We might run into each other at some point, probably very likely. Just wanted to throw that out there.”

“Your boss?” he asked.

“I nanny his kids. I wouldn’t believe me if I were you either. I should go,” you said. You groaned when you were past him, hearing a pair of feet jog to catch up with you.

“I know you. You were on his instagram last week right? Yeah okay, that makes sense why a clueless Texas girl is stressing over gloves.”

“Excuse me?” He shook his head and smiled.

“Get a pair of thick gloves, thinner ones but not too thin, a warm hat, good boots for traction along with some boot spray and go with a longer hooded parka. It’ll be warmer. Throw in a few pairs of wool socks to be sure,” he said.

“Oh. Thank you,” you said. You looked back at the store and then to him. “There’s like five hundred coats in here.”

“How about you buy me a cup of coffee and I’ll help you out. Deal?”

“Why would you help me?” you asked.

“Well I’m gonna be working with Jensen quite a bit and he’s your boyfriend too apparently plus it’s just nice,” he said.

“You’re so not like your character.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. We’ll be out of here in an hour tops.”

Antony turned out to be very helpful since apparently you had an uncanny ability to be attracted to the least warmth rated items in the whole store. But you had your parka and boots on now, other items tucked away in the bags as you browsed through a rack of black dresses at a different store.

“We dress shopping now?” said Antony, sipping on his coffee cup.

“Dude,” you said, jumping again. “You gotta learn to make noise.”

“It’s my natural stealth,” he said. “That one.”

“What?”

“That one,” he said, nodding to a dress on the wall.

“I can’t pull that one off,” you said.

“Try it. I’ll watch your stuff,” he said.

“You’re oddly nice,” you said. “To a stranger.”

“Well this beats my plans of walking around the mall buying crap I don’t need. Besides, I like you.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“I’m taken,” he laughed. “Come on. Everybody needs a shopping buddy.”

“Okay but if you’re a weirdo Jensen will kick your ass,” you said, finding your size and taking it off the rack. “Just sayin’.”

“I like the guy more already,” he said. “It’s not like it’s your first date or anything.”

“...Second date.” He stared and looked away. “It’s…complicated.”

“I heard about...you know…the accident,” he said.

“Let him bring that up,” you said and he nodded. You took the dress into the changing room and smirked at the mirror. “Alright, maybe we give this one a shot.”

You changed back and found Antony on a bench outside.

“I should take you shopping more often,” you said. “You have good taste.”

“Sounds like a winner,” he said, handing you back your bags. “I gotta head out for work but it was nice meeting you, Y/N. I’m sure I’ll see you around very soon.”

“Me too. Thanks for the help today, really.”

“Not a problem at all. See ya later,” he said as he headed out. You gave him a wave and picked out a pair of black heels to go with the dress before you were heading home.

“Hey Jensen,” you said late that night. He’d had to go in for some photos in the afternoon and had taken quite a bit longer than he’d anticipated. “Leftovers are in the container on the top shelf.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said. He rubbed his eyes and padded into the kitchen before tossing the container in the microwave.

“Um, Jensen? Can I talk to you about work?” you asked. His ears perked up and he nodded while he looked around for a spoon. “Second drawer to the left.”

“Thanks,” he said. “So what’s up? Something wrong?”

“Not exactly. I was thinking earlier though about a backup plan,” you said. He took out the container and grabbed his spoon sitting across from you at the table.

“What’s a backup plan?” he asked, shoveling a spoonful of too hot pasta into his mouth.

“Well down in Austin, say I was suddenly unable to perform my job duties cause I’m sick or hurt or I’m off on vacation or whatever. Down there I have a network of other nannies that could step in temporarily, they can do a pick up or drop off in a bind, that sort of thing. It’s kind of a support group in way. It’s good for me and for you.”

“They must have one of those things up here?” he asked, taking a slower bite this time. You spun your computer around and he nodded. “Tornanny. That’s cute. You gotta sign up or something?”

“I need to take a four hour class. They have one on Saturday morning. Is it okay if I sign up?” you asked. He chuckled and took another bite of food.

“Weekends are still yours to do as you please. I need a bit more help during weeknights or mornings but weekends are still yours. I’m also compensating your pay for the additional time and no you’re not winning that argument so don’t even try.”

“Okay. I’m gonna sign up,” you said, turning the computer back.

“What was that thing on the side?” he asked.

“Hm?” you said as you started filling in the form.

“Some happy hour thing on the side,” he said. You flicked your eyes over to the side of the page and saw the group posting. “That could be fun.”

“Do I look like the kind of person that goes to happy hours?” you said.

“Well maybe you could meet a nanny friend in this group, one you could maybe get to cover for you if you ever needed it. I did steal you away from everything you know to a different country with a days notice after all. I’d go with you if you want,” he said.

“What about the kids?”

“Hm?”

“Jensen. I’m starting to see a fatal flaw in me being the nanny and us dating. I’m the person that should be watching the kids when you go out,” you said.

“Hm,” he said, eating for a few moments. “You do have a point. I think we need to renegotiate your contract.”

“Wait you’re firing me?” you said, Jensen shaking his head and laughing. “Okay cause you were about to lose a girlfriend for a second there.”

He smiled to himself and looked down, playing with his dinner.

“So what are you talking about?” you asked.

“Well, girlfriend,” he chuckled. “How about this? Weekends you don’t work, at all, for any reason. If you watch the kids for an hour while I duck to the store, it’s cause you’re doing it cause of us, not as part of your job. If we want to go out or on a date on the weekend, we’ll get a sitter. I had a go to in Vancouver when I lived there. I’ll give her a call, see if she knows anyone out here that would work. That sound good?”

“I guess that’s alright,” you said. He raised and eyebrow and you shrugged. “I enjoy our alone time, don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to take away from them though.”

“I appreciate the sentiment but I’m not saying…” he said before he trailed off and ate the last bites of his food. “I moved us so they could see me everyday which is far more than they ever did when I filmed my show. I will still make them breakfast. I will still put them to bed. I will still have lunch with them and play with them and all of it. They’ll always by my first priority. But a relationship with kids doesn’t always mean the kids are around. Sometimes they come with, sometimes they stay home. I’m not talking about ditching them for days on end. A few hours on a Saturday night, most of which they’ll be in bed asleep is all I’m talking about. We have a right to a little bit of time for ourselves. It’s not as easy with them than it was the first time around but we just have to try harder is all.”

“Okay,” you said. “I’m good with that. How was your first day?”

“Good. We did a lot of promotional stuff. I won’t start acting until next week. I heard you met Antony shopping today.”

“Yeah. I didn’t get a chance to tell you when I got home earlier. He seems like a nice guy.”

“He does. He invited us to dinner once we settle into a routine,” he said. “Apparently you two are shopping buddies now.”

“The man does know how to choose a dress.”

“Good thing I packed my lucky suit up here,” he said.

“Speaking of suits...you wouldn’t happen to have any of you in your Soldier Boy suit from today?”

“No spoilers,” he said with a smirk. You jutted out your lip and he rolled his eyes, taking out his phone. He tapped and slid it over to you, your eyes wide. You must have stared for a solid minute before you looked over at him, Jensen leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head and a huge grin on his face. “You think I’m hot, don’t you.”

“Pft, no,” you said, biting your bottom lip before you licked it. He was still grinning out of the corner of your eye and you gave him the phone back. “Maybe...you’re kinda hot. But it’s totally the suit. Like right now, ugh, horrendous.”

“Nah, I’m hot,” he said, sticking out his stomach and rubbing it.

“I’m impressed you can actually do that,” you said.

“Everybody’s got a tummy,” he said. “Seriously though, you think the suit is cool?”

“It looks awesome. I’d love to see it in person,” you said.

“Oh you guys will be on set at some point,” he said. “I’m kinda nervous about next week.”

“Really? Why? You’re a great actor.”

“Have you ever seen a single thing I’ve done,” he chuckled.

“I did in fact see that horror movie on a date years ago. Something with like mining?” you asked.

“That’s what you saw? Like that movie? I hope the date worked out at least,” he said with a big smirk.

“Actually it was the crappy ex,” you said.

“Oh. You guys must have dated for a long time then.”

“Since we were seventeen,” you said. He stared and you shrugged. “I kept waiting for him to grow up and change. Eventually I realized he never would.”

“Did you love him?”

“I loved the idea of him. I liked him. I was with him for close to 12 years so I obviously liked him. But it wasn’t love. I could never be myself all the way around him and that’s not a way to live. There was none of that feeling when you first meet someone, you know?”

“Would I be pushing to ask if you ever thought about marrying the guy?”

“He did propose actually. A few times,” you said. “I turned him down. Things really went downhill from there though.”

“Why’d you say no?”

“I didn’t want to marry someone that made me feel bad about being me. Got tired of him telling me to get over everything that happened as a kid, dress a certain way, should I really have dessert, that kind of crap.”

“It’s part of who you are. I wouldn’t exactly call your past something to get over,” said Jensen. “Why would he even make you feel bad about it? You’re so normal.”

“I don’t think his daddy hugged him enough,” you said.

“No need to be a dick to other people for it,” he said. You smiled as you finished filling out the rest of the form for the class before sending it off. “Hey on the plus side I did get a good recommendation for daycare today. I was gonna check it out tomorrow morning, maybe get the twins in next week. Apparently they’re also hooked up with a school so JJ can go to school with some other American kids too instead of being stuck behind a screen here all day.”

“That’s great news. She can make some new friends that way. You know I was thinking maybe she could get signed up for indoor soccer. When I played the new season normally started right at the beginning of February.”

“Is it safe?” he asked. “I thought that could get pretty dangerous.”

“Adult leagues can be but kids her age it’s just running back and forth mostly. She could make some new friends, give her something fun to look forward to.”

“It’s not a bad idea. I would like her to be involved in something since she’s out of dance and soccer back home right now. I’ll talk it over with her in the morning,” he said. “She say something to you about it?”

“No. I just know what it’s like to be the new kid,” you said. “Soccer helped me make friends at school.”

“You and your mom move after your dad passed?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah. I was little so I don’t remember so much,” you said, an email coming in that your spot in the class was reserved. “Alright. Looks like I’m all set for eight on Saturday.”

“I’ll try not to keep you out too late on Friday night then,” he said.

“I never said that.”

“I like flirty you,” he said, both of you looking up at the ceiling when you heard a loud pair of giggles. “Duty calls. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jensen.”

________

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

#spn #supernatural #Jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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honeytae · 3 years

Text

Stop running from love.

hey bubs! honestly..i don’t know what this is lol it kind of got away from me. but it’s loosely based off of safety net by ariana grande. which is like one of my favorite songs in existence. i hope you guys like this angsty little piece of nothing?? lmao

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @jjlovr2015 genre: angst, fluff? word count: 2.2k

if you would like to listen, here it is:

You were doing it again.

Sabotaging yourself. Running away. Ghosting a man who had only ever shown you the utmost care and respect.

He’d already called multiple times today, frantic texts showing that he was now beyond worried at the way you’d seemingly dropped off the face of the earth.

You couldn’t blame him. You’d been exclusively dating for three months. Three beautiful and happy months alongside a great guy whose smile brightened every room he graced with his precious presence. Three months that you’d been able to not go into a panic about that very concept.

Until you fell.

The last time you’d seen Jimin was last week when he’d met with you after work for a quick bite to eat.

It was the same place you always went to; you didn’t even have to ask where you were meeting anymore, already on your way to the booth in the back corner with a stupid grin on your face.

The checker floored diner had become a regular spot for you two to stop at, as it was in the middle of the city and perfectly placed between both of your jobs.

That quick bite to eat had easily turned into a full dinner, along with a dessert that’s whipped cream ended up on the tip of his nose in an instant, your giggles causing him to grin wider as he played dumb.

It was simple, not extravagant or fancy by any means, but that was never needed with him. You always had so much fun with Jimin. He was gentle, sweet, caring. All the right things.

And it was when he was walking you back up to your apartment, his hand gripping yours in a way that was soft yet secure, sparkling eyes pressing into crescents when he smiled over at you that you came to a stunning realization; you were falling in love with him.

With a panicked last press of your lips to his cheek, you’d closed your door, leaning back against it as you stared ahead of you, absolutely paralyzed in the silence of your apartment.

You could not be in love. What even is love? Heartbreak, that’s what it is. One way or another, it will always end. You needed to pull back before you got too invested. But, fuck, was it too late?

Erupting into hysterics as you came to terms with what had to be done to protect both yourself and Jimin, you slid your back down the wood, placing your forehead on your knees as you curled up into yourself.

Since then, you’d made it your mission to put him off, every text going unanswered and each call going to voicemail.

And now here you were in your bed in the early hours of the afternoon, shades drawn to encase the room in pitch black. It matched your mood, frustrated and angry with yourself as you cried into your pillow.

You hated yourself for doing this to him. Shutting him out with no explanation; he deserves more than you. In the end, this was to his benefit. He’d go on to find someone worthy of his companionship, someone who didn’t want to disappear at the concept of love.

Someone with less baggage to drag along with them, someone who had a healthy idea of relationships and wasn’t shattered at their core.

While it was painful to ignore him without giving a reason, you knew he’d give up on you eventually. Everyone always did, and it was just for the best.

You hiccuped another sob as your phone buzzed on the table yet again, grabbing the pillow from beside you to sandwich your head between the mattress and the fluffy material, effectively muffling the noise of the vibration as you screwed your sore eyes shut.

“Love?”

You froze at the sudden unmistakable sound of Jimin’s voice calling for you, head spinning as you shut your eyes tighter.

Were you imagining Jimin’s voice beside you? Were you that far gone?

You were proven wrong when the blanket was pulled off of your body, cold air hitting the bare skin of your arms as the pillow was removed from atop your head.

You gasped at the sudden exposure, prying your eyes open to look up at none other than Jimin, the hurt and worried look on his face immediately causing you to sob again.

“Shit, baby, come here.” He rushed to sit down beside you, you easily crawling onto his lap as he wrapped his arms around your back, palm smoothing up and down your spine as he slowly rocked you back and forth.

You sat there silently, letting yourself be comforted by him. For some reason, Jimin was harder to push away than the others. His arms felt so nice around you, like home.

But this had to be done. You wanted him to stay like this in your memory, his image remaining undamaged by any painful breakup.

“Jimin, I-I can’t see you anymore. We can’t be together.” You forced out, heart twisting in agony at the silence ensuing after your words, Jimin shifting you up his lap to look at you.

“What do you mean?” He asked in disbelief, eyebrows knitting together as his eyes widened, you shaking your head instead of giving him a verbal answer due to the growing lump in your throat at his undeniably heartbroken expression.

“We just can’t, Jimin.” You said lamely, your tight grip on his arm contradicting your words as his mouth gaped open at you.

“Wh- what’s wrong? What did I do?” He asked desperately, causing you to sob harder at him blaming himself for this.

“It’s not you, Jimin. You’re amazing, you deserve a better person.” You sniffled, Jimin immediately pulling a face of further confusion as he shook his head to dismiss your words.

“A better- what are you talking about?” He asked, chasing your eyes as you chose to divert them to stare at the blank wall in front of you.

“You deserve someone amazing just like you, Jimin.” You mumbled, the man sitting there in silence before he shifted off of the bed, making you think you’d finally pushed him away.

The feeling of his weight being removed from the bed both pained and relieved you, happy for him to be able to move on now, but sad at that same idea.

But you were taken by surprise when Jimin kneeled on the floor in front of you, forcing you to look at him as he reached up to hold your chin, eyes imploring yours to be more upfront with him.

“You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. What are you talking about?” He repeated his question, silence lingering in the air at the words as you sat anxiously plucking the sheets below you with your fingers.

“Baby.” He called for you, his hurt tone causing your nose to scrunch up with more tears, his thumbs catching the salty water as his expression became more pained by the second.

“Let me in. Please, just let me in.” He pleaded with you, voice soft yet firm as he watched you break down in front of him, heart pounding in his chest at the mere thought of losing you from his life because of whatever insecurities you were not telling him about.

“I’m fucking broken, Jimin. You don’t want to be let in, believe me.” You said, voice weak and wavering from the emotions bubbling up in your throat, shaky from the nights of no sleep you'd gotten in the last week.

“Yes, I do. I’d accept all of you if you just gave me a chance.” He gripped your hands with his, intertwining your fingers to give a reassuring squeeze.

Staring at him, you did not know what to say. Nobody had ever pushed back on your walls like this. They accepted it, moved on, and lived a better life without you in it. You just wished Jimin would do the same.

But he was fighting you on it. Fighting you on something you didn’t even want to do in the first place.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. And that fucking terrifies me.” You explained shakily, concentrating on the feeling of Jimin’s palm running up and down your arm.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, either. It’s new, of course it’s scary. But I care about you, I want you, I miss you. I don’t want you to shut me out.” He said softly, his honeyed voice soothing you enough to make eye contact with his gentle brown orbs.

It was silent as you stared at each other, fear in his eyes and the same reflecting in your own. Studying his features, your heart twisted at his uncharacteristically dark circles, realizing he was probably running on the same amount of sleep you were at the moment.

“I don’t know where to go from here.” You sniffled, Jimin tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as his glassy eyes stared back at you.

Feeling confident enough to stand from the floor and sit beside you on the bed, he let you guide him up against the headboard, resting your backs on it as you let out a sigh.

“Stop pushing me away. Stop running from love.” He responded, his words sounding so genuine that you nearly burst out into tears again.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, placing your temple on his shoulder as his arms encircled your torso.

“I want to be with you.” You admitted in a hoarse whisper, head throbbing as you rested your weight on Jimin, body giving out in exhaustion as he held you to him, delicate as if you’d break. Hell, maybe you would.

“Me too.” He said without missing a beat, eagerness evident in his tone as you let your aching eyes fall shut.

“I just don’t know how.” You sighed, the man humming in response as he threaded his fingers through your hair, rubbing your scalp soothingly as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“We can figure it out together, okay? I don’t want to throw in the towel. Not without at least a little bit of a fight.” He joked, the heavy mood in the room being lightened a bit at the sound of your exhaled laugh.

You lifted your head to look at him, opening your eyes to meet his own in the dark room, barely able to make out his features as the sun must have gone in behind the clouds outside your bedroom.

“I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into, Jimin. I’m a mess. If you want to run, go now.” You spoke seriously, one corner of the man’s lips lifting as he bit down on his cheek, a habit you’d picked up early on as behavior he exhibited when he was hesitant to say something.

“Listen, I’m a mess too. This is nothing.” He reassured you, your eyes studying his features as he seemed to express a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before with him.

“Trying to break up with you because of my own baggage and insecurities? That’s nothing?” You asked with a humorless chuckle, causing the man to reach out for your hand, sighing out a breath of relief when you let him lock his fingers around yours again.

“Well, I guess that in itself is something.” He shrugged, shuffling to hover over you as your red eyes met his.

“But I will always fight for you. You’re worth fighting for.” He said firmly, your eyes becoming glassed over again before you picked your head up off the pillow to catch his lips in a kiss, your palms sliding to the back of his neck as his plush lips worked over yours.

Sensing your emotions, he pulled back only slightly to press his lips over your closed eyelids, the tender action causing your frown to deepen as you gazed up at the sweet man.

“I’m not going to leave you. Whatever’s been done to you in the past, I’m not a repeat of that. I would never do anything to hurt you, I promise.” He said softly, his words seemingly making your heart alive again as it began to pound rapidly in your chest.

And with that, you threw caution to the wind. Even if he broke your heart, you couldn’t stop that from cutting your experience with him shorter than it had to be.

Because Jimin was the softest, sweetest, most lovable man you’d ever met. He showed time and time again that he cared about you, that he wasn’t like the others. And to give him up just because of some bad past experiences was just not worth it.

“I trust you.” You whispered, almost scared to let the words fall from your lips, but relieved when you saw the wide smile on Jimin’s face.

“I trust you, too.” He said softly, tracing his finger over your cheek as he leaned down to kiss you again, laying down beside you to spoon your body with his, pressing his lips against your shoulder in a soothing action.

Laying in his arms, you felt more at peace than you’d felt in days. Being back in his embrace, you felt like you could breathe again, easily falling into much needed sleep with his warmth pressed to your back, his arms looped around your body as he pressed tender kisses to the shell of your ear.

Jimin was your home. And it felt so good to be home.

281 notes · View notes

tefilovesreading · 3 years

Text

It’s a match! Part. 1

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem!Reader

Word count: +1,7k

Warnings: language, mention of alcohol.

A/N: This is a mini series, I’m not sure how many parts it’s gonna have and there’s gonna be some texts in between. LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED.

Edited by: @theamazingtomholland

MASTERLIST // PART 2 // PART 3

She felt her hands start sweating as she saw the small circle slowly filling up, letting her know that the app was being downloaded. She knew what a dating app was, how it worked and what was its purpose, but never created her account, not that she needed it before because she had a boyfriend. Her roommate, on the other hand, was well acquainted with dating apps, and they’d spent nights swiping through the profiles together.

Now that she was single for the first time since she graduated from high school, her roommate and best friend had convinced her to download Tinder and have fun.

“You don’t even have to go and meet the guy, Y/N,” Jo had said with a beaming smile to encourage her when they met for coffee earlier that day, “just have a look and see if you find someone you’d want to talk to.”

She nibbled on her lip when the circle filled up entirely and the icon appeared on her screen, bright and inviting. Putting her phone down, she decided she’d create her account later, for now, downloading it was more than enough.

In her sophomore year, she broke up with her boyfriend because they couldn’t find time to be together, too busy with classes, exams, and part-time jobs. But that didn’t last long, ‘cause they got back together after three weeks.

Those three weeks ignited a spark in her, suddenly things were more exciting to her, and she didn’t feel like she was acting how others expected her to. Y/N felt a kind of freedom that made her go on a date with her co-worker, sure they just went for a coffee together once and decided that they were better off as friends, but that small rejection made her want to make that spark disappear.

Being with Lance made things easier, they knew each other since they were little, and that meant she didn’t have to open up to let him know her flaws and fears, because he knew her like the palm of his hand. Being with him made her feel safe, even when they were apart during his first year of college since she was a year younger than him and was still in high school when he left for college, but that safety net vanished when Lance decided he wanted to spend time overseas after he graduated from college. And it was useless to wait for him if he wasn’t even sure he wanted to come back.

Eight months later, Y/N felt that spark reigniting again, making her feel like she was missing something. Ever since Lance left, she spent too much time afraid to put herself out there. How can you let someone into your life and trust them to not hurt you? After all, she trusted Lance for so long just to get hurt because they didn’t want the same things, and their paths went in different ways. But Y/N knew she couldn’t hide much longer, she wanted to go out, have fun, go on dates and meet new people, she just didn’t know how to start.

Her phone vibrated with a new notification from her best friend, and she snorted at her text.

Jo: Any matches yet heartbreaker???

If only Jo knew she still wasn’t able to bring herself into making an account. Maybe she could choose the pictures first, plan her bio, and then create it. Planning that out was definitely better than staring at the app icon.

Y/N: Not yet, but I’ll let you know ;)

After an hour of scrolling through her photos, Y/N chose five pictures where she looked decent. Hell, she looked really hot in one or two of those, and she wasn’t going to act as if that wasn’t true.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered to herself after her account was finally set up.

It was a strange feeling swiping through the profiles, reading their bios, and rolling her eyes at some of them. But after a few minutes, she started enjoying it, not even feeling bad if she didn’t match with a guy.

She smiled at the simple bio on her screen and swiped right, not even bothering to go through his other photos. He was cute, he seemed like he liked to have fun, and even though he was cute, he was also hot. A dangerous mix, but a really nice one.

It’s a match!

“Honey I’m home!” her best friend sang, entering the living room.

“Shit Jo!” Y/N scolded the girl, “you scared me.”

“Why?” Jo faked an offended look, “were you sending dirty messages or something?”

“Oh shut up,” Y/N said, handing her phone over to her friend with a sheepish smile on her face, “check out my last match.”

“Okay, so he likes outdoor activities, he plays the guitar, and he has a cute smile,” her friend listed, swiping through his photos, “what are you waiting for, Y/N? Send him a message!”

“I was actually waiting for him to send one first,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks heat up, “you know I suck with conversations over chat.”

“But what if he’s waiting for you to talk to him, and you don’t do it,” Y/N looked at her friend and knew she was already making up a whole movie in her head, about how they could be soulmates, but they would never know if she didn’t send him a text.

“Fine!” She huffed and took her phone from her friend’s hands, “Do I send him a hello or what?”

“No, that’s too dry,” Jo replied, “you should ask him about where he took that picture, the one where he’s in the snow.”

She bit her bottom lip to distract herself from the fact that she felt as if her stomach was tied up in knots. He was really cute, and she had a good feeling about him, almost as if the universe was telling her to go for it, meet up with him and have fun.

Hesitating at first, she let her finger hover over the little “send” button for a few seconds, before pressing the screen and sending the text.

Y/N: Hey! Where did you take the first pic? The place looks great

“What now?” Jo looked at her with one of her eyebrows arched.

“We wait, you idiot.”

“I need to do something,” Y/N locked her phone and got up, “if I stay on that couch waiting for a reply I’m gonna end up with no nails.”

“I did your nails last night, Y/N, don’t ruin my work,” Jo complained, “why don’t you cook dinner today?, and I’ll wash the dishes, so you can text with that guy if he replies to you by the time we’re done eating.”

“I’m gonna ignore the fact that it was your turn, Jo” she pointed out but made her way to the kitchen anyway, “and you better wash, dry, and put the dishes back in the cabinets.”

Cooking was the perfect distraction, and the glass of wine she drank while they were eating helped her loosen up just enough to check her phone without feeling like she was getting back some important results.

Charlie: It’s in Canada Charlie: Sulphur Mountain Trail! Charlie: I like your smile btw

She smiled with excitement when she opened the app and saw those three messages, and just as she was about to respond, Charlie sent another one.

Charlie: How was your day?? Y/N: It was good, pretty relaxing actually Y/N: Yours?? Charlie: Great! I went hiking with a friend, so now I’m just chilling at home Y/N: I’m assuming you’re into hiking, don’t you??? Charlie: Hahaha yeah you’re right Charlie: I guess I enjoy being outside, it keeps my mind occupied

Y/N: I get it, I’m not really into outdoor activities Y/N: I mean Y/N: I don’t mind going on a hike once in a while, but I prefer reading, painting, or playing some music Y/N: To keep my mind occupied

Five texts in a row. Was that too much? She didn’t want to appear intense, but she also didn’t want to send just one massive text and type it for way too long.

Charlie: You play an instrument?? Charlie: I love music Y/N: Yeah I play the piano Y/N: I just don’t have one with me now, so I haven’t played in a while Charlie: Oh! That sucks! Charlie: When I moved here I think I packed my guitars first and then the rest of my stuff

Y/N let out a soft laugh at his text, he did seem like the kind of guy to pack random stuff before things that he might actually need. She should’ve done the same, she missed playing the piano, and now that she was miles away from her parents’ house it wasn’t like she could just go and play. Especially because she didn’t even know how to drive a car.

Y/N: Should’ve done the same if I’m honest Y/N: Where are you from? You said you moved here

After reading his answer to her last question, she groaned in embarrassment because it was the most obvious answer, and yet she didn’t notice it.

Charlie: I’m Canadian

She lost track of time talking to him about things they both enjoyed doing, what was their favorite movie, favorite musician, and to her surprise it was so easy to talk to him about small things like that could help you a lot to get to know another person. Y/N got startled when Jo touched her shoulder to get her attention.

“I’m off to bed, babe,” Y/N dodged when her friend tried to ruffle her hair as if she was a little kid, “don’t go to bed too late.”

“I won’t mom,” she replied jokingly, “sweet dreams, Jo.”

With a heavy sigh, Y/N typed a message, telling him that she needed to get some rest and that she was hoping they could keep talking the next day.

Charlie: Do you mind if I ask you for your number?? Charlie: I’d love to call you or FaceTime with you if you’re okay with that

“Shit, shit, shit,” she whispered, wishing her best friend hadn’t gone to bed already. Of course, she wanted to give him her number, but was she supposed to give her number to the first guy she talked to on Tinder? “fuck it, I’m doing it.”

Y/N sent him her number and after telling him goodnight, she closed the app and got ready for bed. She really had a good feeling about this whole thing, and she couldn’t put her finger on what it was, because the feeling started even before they even matched.

Maybe it was just fate doing its work.

#charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie fanfic #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie one shot #charlie gillespie fluff #jatp cast imagine #charlie gillespie

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iceeckos12 · 3 years

Text

time travel snippet

little time travel au oneshot. season 5 jon travels back in time to season 1. from the perspectives of tim, martin, and sasha. 3.5k.

i dont think i need to tag anything, but please let me know otherwise.

Tim wakes up that morning, and it’s just like any other day.

Well—no, okay, that’s a bit misleading. Today is his first day working as an archival assistant, so he’s one part nervous, one part that breathless, exhilarated feeling you only get when you’re about to do something unfamiliar that may or may not redefine your life for the foreseeable future. When he says “it’s just like any other day”, he means that he wakes up, and he’s a normal person doing normal people things like eating a healthy breakfast and going to work.

(So, no. In short, he doesn’t realize that today is the day when It happens, that big, life-changing event that you think will Never Happen To You.)

He gets out of bed, stumbles into the bathroom. Washes his face of whatever residue that’d built up during the night, tries to scrape away the evidence of his nightmares, smiles big and bright at the mirror to see how successful his efforts were. He’s betrayed by the traitorous bags beneath his eyes, but that’s okay. Sasha taught him how to wield concealer as a shield whenever his past wore down his armor.

He shoots twin finger guns into his reflection, making soft pew, pew! noises that are almost too-loud in the hush of the bathroom. Then he turns on his heel and walks away, sauntering and humming along with the chorus of Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5.

He gets to the Institute twenty minutes before he’s supposed to—not because he’s trying to impress his boss or whatever (he and Jon have known each other long enough that there’s no point). It’s just, Jon will probably want to make some sort of game-plan before the actual workday starts.

The poor man had been relieved to an almost comical degree when Tim had said yes, I’ll come with you to the Archives. It’s painfully obvious how out-of-his-depth Jon is with the whole “Head Archivist” thing. Tim’s honestly baffled as to why Elias had singled him out for the position in the first place, considering his lack of qualifications.

But, whatever. It’s fine! Tim and Sasha will be there to help him—although the third assistant is a bit of a problem, considering that they know absolutely nothing about him. There’s no guarantee that this Martin Blackwood won’t report inadequacies or mistakes back to Elias. If that’s the case, Tim and Sasha will have to be Jon’s safety net, which is partially why Tim is hoping to talk to Jon before anyone else gets there.

He also wants to talk to Jon because he just knows the man is probably working himself up over all of this. Maybe reassurances won’t do away with the source of anxiety entirely, but at least it’ll remind Jon that he’s not alone, and that he can count on Tim and Sasha.

As expected, when Tim gets there he can see a sliver of light pouring out from the cracked door of the Head Archivist’s office. He selects a desk and sets his bag on top of it, noting a set of strange gouges in the fake wood with a raised eyebrow, and then an internal shrug. The Institute issued laptop is near the far edge of his desk, and his collection of pictures are strategically placed so that he can see them all clearly.

His eyes linger over the image of him, his mother, and his brother. Their smiles are almost perfect replicas of each other, like someone took a mold of one of their faces and recreated it twice over.

Briefly, he closes his eyes. Then he shakes himself, releases a slow, steadying breath, and goes to check on Jon.

Tim’s not sure what he’s expecting to see when he goes into Jon’s office.

(That’s misleading too, though. He’s not sure if Jon will be visibly calm or upset, if he’ll be on his laptop, if he’ll be picking at the skin around his fingernails, as he so often does when he’s stressed. He is expecting Jon as he is and always has been—a twenty-some year old going on sixty, who wraps his gruff, grumpy demeanor about himself to protect the soft, vulnerable core he likes to pretend doesn’t exist.)

He comes up to the door, and the soft rectangle of light that emanates from beneath the door paints the tips of his shoes gold. “Jon?” he calls softly, rapping his knuckles against the frame. There’s a soft rustling noise—papers maybe? but no audible response, so he shrugs and pushes the door open. “I’m coming in.”

Tim steps inside, a quip instinctively readying itself on his tongue—but then his gaze lands on Jon, and he freezes dead in his tracks.

Even years later, he still vividly, viscerally remembers the moment he saw Danny standing on the stage underneath the Royal Opera House, the way he’d looked...not quite right. The wrongness had been subtle, so much so that it had been unnoticeable upon first glance, upon second glance. The longer Tim had looked though, the more obvious it had become, exposing all the little faults in that almost-perfect recreation of his brother.

Looking at Jon now, it’s the first and only thing he can think of. Because—yes, there’s the long, silver-streaked black hair, there’s the rich brown eyes, there’s the pair of spectacles that make him look far older than he actually is. But that’s where the similarities between the Jon he knows and this Jon end.

Jon’s always been a small man, but his feigned haughtiness makes him seem much bigger than he actually is. Except—except this Jon looks smaller somehow, his shoulders curved protectively inward, like he’s trying to present less of a target. And there’s something about his face, too—his expression is too sharp, too much—

But the worst of it is his eyes. There’s something very wrong with his eyes.

Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with Jon? He doesn’t say it out loud though, just keeps staring at Jon, a heady mix of terror and horror making any sort of reaction impossible.

After a moment Jon’s lips thin, contorted by some distant cousin of displeasure, and he rises to his feet. Tim stumbles instinctively backward, his breath escaping him in a sharp gasp that’s immediately swallowed up by the apathetic stacks of books and papers surrounding them. He’s struck by the fact that if he dies here, it’s unlikely anyone will notice; he’ll become just another set of marks gouged into the desk, willed away with an uneasy shrug.

Jon freezes, lips parting subtly, as though he were about to speak. Tim feels his breath catch in his chest, unable to shake himself out of the clouded stupor his mind has fallen into.

In the end, Jon says nothing. Just releases a long, slow breath of air and sits back down, pushing his chair close to his desk. The motion looks heavy, tired, as though it takes far more energy than it should.

“You—you should go,” Jon rasps, and there’s something off about his voice too, though Tim can’t put his finger on why. He can’t cobble together enough of a train of thought to make sense of any of this, all he can think of is that clown ripping Danny apart—

He stumbles out of Jon’s office, sits down at his desk. Stares down at the cheap, fake wood, at the gouges that have marred the otherwise pristine surface. Puts his head in his hands, and tries to will his heart to stop pounding in his chest.

-0-

Martin’s heard things about Jonathan Sims.

He’s not usually the type to pay attention or encourage gossip, as the vivid memories of his classmates tittering cruelly whenever he walked by still leaves a sour taste in his mouth.The problem with the Institute is that the employees get bored pretty easily. Though most would consider academic research into the esoteric and the paranormal to be fairly interesting, it’s still academic research. And the subject content can get to be a bit...repetitive. There’s only so many gruesome statements you can read without thinking, oh great, more meat.

So the employees gossip a lot, and while Martin usually tries to keep his head down and avoid it, it’s difficult not to overhear some things. And from what little he’s heard, he’s...a bit concerned. Rude and unsociable has frequently been mentioned, as have arrogant and unnecessarily finicky, and worst of all, a bit of a stuck-up know-it-all.

Normally he tries not to put too much stock in office gossip—he’s well aware that the grapevine tends to exaggerate one’s most undesirable traits—but if any of it is true, then he might just be in trouble. It was hard enough being a library employee when his boss wasn’t even paying attention most of the time. If Jon is as exacting as they say, it might be enough to expose the fact that Martin has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. And if that happens, then he might get fired, and he can’t get fired, he needs this job, he can barely keep up with his mum’s medical bills as it is—

Calm down, Martin tells himself firmly, pressing his hand against his sternum, as though that will be enough to quell the rising panic. It’s only your first day. Maybe he’s nice, and we’ll actually be good friends.

(With his luck? Yeah, right.)

The Institute looms in the distance, growing closer with every terrified, grudging footstep. A shiver runs up his spine at the sight of its imposing presence, a dark, ugly blot of a building against the backdrop of the iron grey clouds.

If there’s one thing he’s good at though, it’s keeping his head down and muddling through until he’s able to figure out what is actually expected of him. He can twist and fold himself into whatever role they need him to fill, as he has done so many times in the past. Not easily perhaps, but he has always managed. The alternative is untenable, after all.

So he takes a deep breath, and shoves his panic down as deep as possible. Lifts his head and forces a smile onto his face, like a good attitude will be enough to protect him from his boss’s wrath.

He could really do with a cup of tea.

Martin trudges down the stairs, giving the blank walls, the old-fashioned carpet, a dubious look as he does. The Archives themselves are as he remembers it—he’s been down here a couple of times when Gertrude made a request for something specific, but—

He pauses when he notices a man sitting at one of the desks, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders aren’t shaking and his breathing is even, so Martin doesn’t think that he’s crying? He’s just….sitting there, his stillness so perfect it’s almost inhuman.

“Hello?” Martin calls softly, cautiously, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet.

The man looks up, revealing a very handsome face and brown eyes so dark they may as well be black. His cheeks are dry but his eyes are bright and a little wild, and his mouth is pressed into a small, tight line. He doesn’t speak, just keeps watching, blinking dazedly in Martin’s direction. Martin gets the feeling that this person isn’t entirely there at the moment, like a house in which every room is lit, but there are no people inside.

He swallows and shifts nervously back and forth, trying to decide whether or not to call for some backup. Eventually he sets his bag on the floor and shuffles a bit closer. “Um—are you—is everything okay?”

The man blinks rapidly, some semblance of awareness creeping back into his gaze. He shakes his head slowly, pushes his short, gelled hair back from his head. His hands are trembling. “I’m...yeah, I’m fine. It’s—everything’s, it’s…”

But then his gaze lands on something over Martin’s shoulder, and all the color drains out of his face, his mouth shutting with a painful sounding click. Martin quickly spins around, searching for whatever could’ve scared him so much—

There’s someone standing in the doorway of Gertrude’s office.

There are so many things that one normally takes in upon first meeting another person: their hair, their skin color, all the little wrinkles and marks that give you the briefest insight into their life. Martin looks at posture first, tends to check if a person is intentionally looming, or if they’re making themself smaller.

But all Martin can see are the eyes.

There’s—two of them he thinks, but two is such an arbitrary number when the thing you’re applying it to doesn’t ascribe to human values (he’s not sure how he knows that—how does he know that—?). That horrible, terrible gaze is an unerring arrow, all-encompassing, all-consuming, piercing the deepest corners of his mind. It hurts in some distant, nebulous way he’s not even sure he comprehends—

Then he blinks, and the sheer terror, that feeling of the horrible, violating exposure of everything that he is, abruptly snuffs out. What’s left is just a person, wispy and small, his slight frame fairly drowning in a chunky, cable-knit jumper. He’s leaning against his doorframe, his eyes—two big brown ones, rich and unfathomably sad and more than that, human—drinking Martin in, his lips parted in a soundless gasp.

“Um—” Martin glances over his shoulder, and almost leaps out of his skin when a land falls heavily on his shoulder. The man who’d been sitting in the chair is standing just behind him, a strained but polite smile on his face.

“Hi Jon,” the man says, an undercurrent of a warning in his voice.

Martin glances between the two, his confusion growing with every passing moment. This is not what he was expecting when he first came into work today, and the uncertainty makes him feel strange and off-kilter.

The person in the door swallows once, twice, then straightens, one hand still gripping the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. When he speaks, his voice is soft, tentative, a little ragged around the edges. “Tim. It’s, um...it’s good to see you.”

“Martin Blackwood, was it?” Tim continues, injecting a bit of cheer into his voice. It takes Martin a moment to realize that he’s being addressed, and he shoots Jon—this is Jonathan Sims?—an uncertain look before nodding slowly. “We’re happy to have you on the team.”

“O-Oh?” Martin squeaks, then grits his teeth and bodily forces his voice back into its normal range. “I’m—um, I’m happy to be here?”

“Good,” Tim says through a grin that looks more like a grimace, giving Martin’s shoulder a friendly pat. The look he shoots Jon is a dark, mistrustful thing. The look Jon gives him back is fragile, vulnerable, that winds the tension in Tim’s shoulders so tight it has to be painful.

Jon’s gaze flickers to Martin, just for a second—and then he disappears into his office, leaving the door cracked behind him.

Tim and Martin stand there for a second, staring at the door. Tim’s still tense as a bowstring, and his grip on Martin’s shoulder is almost uncomfortable. The air in the Archives feels stuffy and too warm, and there’s a strange prickling sensation on the back of Martin’s neck, like he’s being subjected to close scrutiny.

Then Tim sighs and lets go of Martin’s shoulder, a little of the tension bleeding out of him, and without it he looks small, deflated. He goes back to his desk and sits down, booting up his laptop without a word of explanation to Martin.

Martin stares at the back of Tim’s head for a moment, a number of questions clamoring around in his brain—what the fuck was that? What’s wrong with Jon? Why are you so obviously suspicious of him?—but the words won’t come. Breaking the silence feels...sacrilegious, somehow. Every breath of air sticks against the back of his throat.

In the end, he doesn’t say anything either, just sits at his desk and takes out his Institute-issued laptop. Stares blankly at the screen as the machine slowly, laboriously, comes to life.

-0-

Sasha’s not entirely sure how to interpret the tense atmosphere that has descended over the Archives.

The first day she’d arrived a couple of minutes before she was supposed to, prepared to follow Jon’s direction and help him adjust as best she could. (Her feelings about Jon’s promotion...didn’t matter. She didn’t like it, but it wasn’t his fault that Elias was an old-fashioned misogynist.)

But when she’d come down the stairs, Tim and the assistant she didn’t know, Martin, had been seated quietly at their desks. They’d both had the same distant, shell-shocked look on their faces, like they’d received some shattering, horrible news. Sasha had sent Tim a confused look, but he either hadn’t noticed it, or hadn’t wanted to explain.

She hadn’t even seen Jon that first day, just received a polite email asking her to start organizing the statements according to the system which he’d devised.

It’s been almost three days, and nothing has changed. Oh sure, they’ve all started organizing the statements as directed. Tim cracks jokes, Martin tiptoes around them and makes copious amounts of tea. That strange tension that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, like the world is holding its breath in anticipation, hasn’t faded though. And while she doesn’t know Martin all that well, she knows that something’s still up with Tim. He seems more subdued than usual, keeps sending uncomfortable looks in the direction of Jon’s office—

—which hasn’t been open since that first day. She hasn’t seen Jon at all either, no matter how early she arrives or how late she stays. The only proof she has that he’s still alive is the polite email she periodically receives, detailing some specific task that he wants for them to do.

Even then, his emails are...odd. She’s not sure how she can tell, but they feel...awkward? Stilted? Like he’s only half-aware of what he’s typing, or like he’s only asking them to do things because he feels like he should, not because he has any actual goal in mind.

Normally she’d be frustrated by this, would complain bitterly to Tim about Elias passing over her for someone who obviously doesn’t properly appreciate the position they’ve been given—except that she knows Jon. He’d made a point to explain the situation to her himself, an apologetic twist tucked into the corner of his mouth. More than that, he’d asked her to follow him to the archives, saying that he wanted the two people he trusted most, her and Tim, to come with him.

He respects her too much not to take this job seriously.

The strangeness of the archives is only emphasized by Jon’s complete and utter lack of presence within it, but she doesn’t—she doesn’t buy that. She doesn’t believe that he’d just suddenly decide not to do the job he’d been so anxious to excel at.

More damning than anything is Tim’s complete, utter silence regarding Jon’s strange behavior, but whatever he knows about it, he isn’t saying anything. Martin is willing to talk, but he seems to be as lost as she is.

“I—that first day, Jon…” Martin shrugs, shooting a nervous glance toward the door leading to the archives. He’s been spending a lot of time hovering in the break room making tea, not that she can blame him. “He—I mean obviously I don’t know him very well, but he seemed...upset?”

“Upset,” Sasha repeats dubiously.

Martin lets out an exhausted sigh and turns away, waving a dismissive hand. “Look, I’m not entirely sure how to explain it. He just—okay, so, bear with me for a second, but he reminded me of this guy who used to live in my neighborhood.”

Sasha backs off, folding her arms and leaning against the counter. “Okay?”

“There was this little old couple that used to live in my neighborhood. They were—they were really sweet! The husband used to give candy to us younger kids. But um—sometimes you’d see him sitting in the rocking chair on his porch, and it was like...he wasn’t entirely there? Like, he’d just sit there for hours, rocking and staring at nothing. That’s—that’s what Jon’s expression reminded me of.”

Martin gets more animated the more he talks, Sasha notes; his hands move in broad, sweeping gestures, his expression twisting into an expression of extreme concentration. The moment he finishes he deflates again, tucking his hands into his armpits self-consciously, a hedgehog curling protectively in on itself.

“So, yeah,” he finishes eloquently.

“Huh,” Sasha says thoughtfully.

She gets back to her desk. Looks over at Tim, who’s studiously working through a box of statements, his mouth set in a neutral, concentrated frown. Takes a deep breath, letting the taste of dust and old papers sit heavy on her tongue.

Then she opens her laptop and starts looking through the catalog of cursed items that are currently being held in Artifact Storage.

(She doesn’t think that she’ll find anything, but—but just in case.)

-0-

They all get the call the next Monday morning: Elias Bouchard was found dead in his office.

#tma #iceeckos12 writes #my writing #just a little time travel au #probably wont continue this but i thought it was kinda fun

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crescentchat · 3 years

Text

on Sandwiches and Shells (Lunar Chronicles Fanfiction)

Jacin was everything to Winter. The blue in her veins, the space between her hollow bones, the warm color in both her irises.

But Jacin was also a dork.

Winter and Thorne both agreed on this. ----

An exploration of Winter & Thorne friendship, and Jacin & Cress. Also a deep dive into the fate of the shells after the revolution!

Finished:07-28-2021

Words:1861

Jacin was everything to Winter. The blue in her veins, the space between her hollow bones, the warm color in both her irises.

But Jacin was also a dork.

Winter and Thorne both agreed on this.

And with two sandwiches and a bench in a glass hallway near the ship docks, they discussed it at length.

“Then he threatened to duel me! Dueling- ” Thorne had said, bug-eyed, one cheek filled with bread. “Do Lunars duel? Is that a custom?”

The princess giggled. “Public lashings were common”

He was silent for a moment as he swallowed the rest of his lunch. “Those still aren’t legal, right?”

“No, I don’t think Cinder would let it be. She might make an exception for you maybe.”

The brunet threw his head back and laughed. “Now you’re sassy? I can’t escape it since Cinder and Scarlet started rubbing off on Cress!”

“Perhaps I learned it from Jacin,” Winter added, taking a small bite from her zesty sandwich. “He had been sentenced to public lashing one time.”

Winter smiled at the memory, not because of the gore of seeing the love of her life tied and beaten, but the things he had said to her that night. The side of him that no one else was allowed to see (but everyone knew was there because he was not good at hiding it), a man that would do anything, anything for her.

“Huh. Wish I was there.” Thorne added.

In the comfortable silence, her eyes went to a grand, marble door nearby. If Jacin were here right now, he would be standing statuesque next to it. And since Thorne was here with her, he would probably be standing even closer. Winter would offer him food, and he would decline, Thorne would have something witty to say about it, and Jacin would make a threat of violence with a deadpan face.

“Where’s your loverboy, anyways?”

“He accompanied your Cress to a shell rehabilitation meeting. Do you want to eat the rest of this?”

“Pickles? No way. And what do you mean shell rehabilitation meeting ? She’s already in therapy,” Thorne added skeptically, brushing the crumbs off his lap and standing up.

“No, no. It’s for the friends that were rescued from the labs.”

Thorne nodded and made an ‘O’ shape with his lips. “To reintroduce them into normal society? Well, as normal as moon people can be, ” he added, muttering the last part.

Shells had very limited education (being a thaumaturge telling them an intimidating version of what reproduction was like, effectively scaring them away from it), but they had made their own versions of interaction before they were put in cryo-sleep.

The shells that couldn’t find their previous families, or families that wouldn’t take them back, were offered jobs in the Artemisian palace. Winter was very fond of all of them. They would say very strange things to the aristocrats, ask the most awkward questions at the most horrible times, but they were Winter’s people .

Despite effectively being a war hero, many still thought Winter was crazy, including her close friends. But apart from Jacin, the shells were the only ones in the palace who were too different for others to swallow, swimming in their heads too often. Like she was. They understood.

Many had dreams of moving the Earth, and maybe being normal on Earth meant losing your peculiarity.

But this couldn’t be true. Cress was raised in a drastically different way than the other shells, but she was still just as weird and wistful as them.

“The friends, they really admire her,” Winter said after a moment. “They told me that Sybil Mira had taken her away one day. They were very envious because they thought she was going to the palace to be freed, but Sybil told them that she was killed instead.”

Thorne nodded. “Yeah, I remember that at the banquet. Like, all of them were sobbing. Kind of touchy, too.”

“They don’t know much better, though,” Winter said, dusting her dress off and standing as well once her sandwich was finished.

“Hence the rehabilitation!” He said proudly, already at the door holding it open. “Let’s go supervise.”

__________________________________

Jacin had made a promise to Cress, a very long time ago. That promise was that her safety would come only second to Winter’s.

But sometimes he wondered, What was he willing to put up with for her?

He already dealt with shells and their lack of personal space and emotional boundaries at the palace, but here, there were about a hund of them all in this one conference room in South Artemisia.

Despite Jacin placing himself far away from the others and staying silent, that didn’t stop people from coming up to him and asking, asking, asking, asking-

“Why are your arms so big?” A pale, redheaded teenager asked.

“I exercise.”

“What pertains to exercise?”

“Pushups.”

“What’s a pushup?”

Jacin rolled his eyes to the sky. “Look it up. You have a portscreen, don’t you?”

The boy, Wane, scoffed. “Portscreens are so blue . I see enough blue on the faces of others.”

He fought another eye-roll, but only because the statement reminded him of something whimsical Winter might say. “I’m sure someone else can show you.”

Wane nodded nonchalantly, thanked him, and ambled away.

This queued Jacin to turn his attention to Cress, who was swiping through her portscreen, and being swarmed by a group of shell women. She looked a little flustered, but not overwhelmed by the attention.

He discreetly made his way over to the crowd and cut through so he was right behind Cress.

Ah.

He should have guessed by the squeals and giggles from the shell girls that Cress was showing them pictures of the Captain. One picture was him carrying an antidote crate, concentration etched in his eyes. Cress swiped through her photo gallery again, showing a picture of him fascinatingly watching a romantic net drama (one he claimed to hate, by the way).

“Ahem,” Jacin coughed.

The blonde turned around swiftly, as did the shells.

The shell girls hugged him immediately, all greeting him. He just about pushed them off in shock until Cress shot him a knowing yet weary smile reminding him that they don’t know much about personal space.

Wasn’t she supposed to be mentoring them on that instead of showing them pictures of her boyfriend? Jacin coughed again. “Hello, everyone. I need a word with the shortcake.”

“Hey!” A brunette yelped. “That’s mean. Crescent is short and lovely and not a cake! ”

“Ah, Callista. He’s not being mean. It’s lighthearted, a nickname.” Cress said, gently pulling her away from Jacin. By now the rest of the shells had gone somewhere else, off to another counselor to ask a thousand questions.

“No, Cress is a nickname because it is short for Crescent Moon. But shortcake has nothing to do with Crescent Moon.”

Cress sighed, “Okay, so-”

Jacin tuned it out, waiting for her to be done. Why did they ask her to explain these things when she could barely explain it herself?

It brought him to another time when a shell woman came up to Cress and kissed her on the mouth like they had been casually dating for years.

Thorne had jumped out of his chair, and when Cress was done being shocked, she stuttered, “Why did you do that?”

“Because I love you!” She exclaimed happily.

“You do not love her, you’ve known her for two days!” Thorne had interjected.

“Of course I love her. She is a hero to all our shell friends and saved us all!”

“I am a friend, then, but you don’t- you can’t kiss people! On the face like that!” Cress swallowed.

She had placed her fingers on her chin like she was deeply considering this. “Yes, yes. Interesting. Thank you for letting me know.”

Cress’ mildly sarcastic cough brought him back to the present. “What did you need?”

“I think it’s about time we go back to the palace.”

“Aww, why? I was having so much fun,” She whined.

“Having fun showing off Thorne?”

There was a comedic silence, before she said, “Yeah.”

Jacin rolled his eyes for maybe the hundredth time, but this time only in jest.

Cress feigned an offended gasp, and swatted at him lightly, standing up from her chair. “You would show off Winter too if put in the position!”

“She would show herself off.” He said, stopping by a door while Cress waved goodbye to the shells.

“Thorne probably would too,” She said, finally closing the door and cracking her fingers. “But I’m just getting the word out he’s mine.”

Jacin almost snorted at the sudden and unexpected possessiveness of her statement. “Sometimes I wonder if he forgets he’s yours.”

She thoughtfully shook her head. “No, it’s a lot like Winter. Kind of.”

Jacin raised his eyebrow.

“Well, like, Winter attracts people by existing, you know? She can’t help it.”

That was very true. She could swish her hair once, and twirl in her dress twice maybe, and get just about anything she wanted. But still, “Thorne can definitely help it though.”

Their footsteps echoed off the grand hallway, chatter from the shell meeting all but gone. “Maybe. I don’t know.” There was a hint of doubt in her voice.

Jacin, out of fear he offended her, added, “Not that I think he’s unfaithful. He’s obsessed with you, really.”

“In a romantic way?”

Jacin nodded.

The flush that was on her face earlier came back. “W-well, Winter’s obsessed with you!”

He decided they were far away enough for anyone to hear, so he indulged himself in a laugh. “I know, I know.”

__________________________________

“Hello, Squire Clay!” Thorne bellowed as he strutted through the ship docks, Winter trailing behind, sandwich in hand.

Cress could hear Jacin’s eye roll (he was doing a lot of those today).

“Hey you,” Thorne greeted her, voice softer and looping an arm around her waist.

“Apologies I told him about your squireship status,” Winter hooked an arm around his neck and pecked his cheek.

“Does this mean you’re a knight now or something? What’s the surname for knights-” the Captain snapped his fingers, trying to call up the knowledge. “Your Holiness?”

“I think it’s just sire,” Cress said.

Thorne purred, “Medieval knowledge. Nice. How’d it go, sire?”

Jacin held up a hand. “Don’t do that,” he grumbled as Winter snorted. “It went fine. We left early because you two have somewhere to be.” He pointed to the other couple.

Captain looked down at her with wide eyes, looking for an answer. “Ah, the outbreak in the United Kingdom. Almost forgot about that.” She said.

“Of course! In the Canadian province. How could I forget?” Thorne chirped as if he knew the whole time.

“Well, I didn’t forget. The vaccines have already been loaded into the Rampion.” The platinum blonde said, signaling to the crates in the cargo bay.

Thorne hummed. “Guess it’s time to go, then.”

“Thank you, Jacin,” Cress smiled at him, and he smiled back.

“Have fun with your Trouble, Jacin!” He yelled from the Rampion, as the ramp closed.

He scoffed, for again, probably the hundredth time that day.

__________________________________

Finally finished! I promised this you be finished a week ago, but I lied hehe. Thank you for @gingerale2017 for cheerleading me on! I’m really proud of this. please support on AO3!

#the lunar chronicles #lunar chronicles #tlc #marissa meyer #winter x jacin #wincin #jacinter #winter hayle blackburn #jacin clay #carswell thorne #cress darnel #crescent moon darnel #cresswell #fluff #fanfiction #reblog please #writer

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itsallyscorner · 3 years

Note

I’m so happy seeing someone on here give positions the respect it deserved as an album!!! U have no idea!! My fav currently is safety net, so that with Steve 🥺🤝

Aw thank you, hun! And thank you for the request! I’m so sorry it took long, thank you for being patient! I hope you enjoy, happy reading!🥰💛

💌.

safety net

*takes place in like early Avengers. Like First Avenger - Avengers* I’m not sure what this is, but I tried:)

You know you're really something, yeah

How we get here so damn fast?

Only you can tell me that

Baby, 'cause you know I'm coming back

You're making me forget my past

Never thought I’d feel like that again

I came to peace with my path

Now you got me off track

From waking up in the 21st century to becoming the Captain of the Avengers. Steve Rogers felt like time was moving through him. He was just a second on the clock while it continued to tick on to the next second, to a minute, and to an hour. Steve felt lost waking up in the new century. He didn’t know what the world was anymore. From someone who felt as if he had the world in his hands, now he was just a loner in a time he didn’t belong to.

He had no one. There wasn’t anyone in Brooklyn who he recognized. Not the man who worked at the deli, no newsie yelling out the new headline of the paper, not even one of those bullies who’d beat him up in the alleys. There was no Bucky. No sign of Peggy. Just a bunch of giant televisions hung on the buildings of New York and people with their eyes casted upon their phones.

Then he met you. Agent (y/n) of SHIELD. He recognized you as one of the many agents he bumped into when running out of HQ when he first woke up in NY. He officially met you when Fury introduced you to him.

“Captain Rogers, meet Agent (y/n), she’ll be helping you adjust to the 21st century.” Fury stood between you and Steve. While you had a comforting smile on your face, a hesitant expression was on the super soldier’s face.

“Captain Rogers, it’s an honor to meet you.” You stuck your hand out to him for a shake. Steve took your hand a few seconds after staring at it, nodding at you.

“I understand that everything seems confusing and you must be feeling so many emotions right now. But I hope you’ll allow me to help you adjust to the new world. We don’t have to rush into things, we can move at your pace. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” You spoke with such gentleness. For a moment, Steve forgot about the whole situation he was in. All he could thing about during that moment was how comforting your presence was and how safe it made him feel. Maybe a bit too safe.

Though he was timid, unresponsive, and hard to understand, you still stuck around to help him. Not once did you give up on him or missed a day of your sessions together. You were patient with him, even if he would raise his voice in frustration or just look off into space. You were kind and caring. You made sure he was eating well and that his fridge was well stocked whenever you came around. You were too good to him even though he was a complete dick to you.

Steve knew he was acting like a dick, it was a defense mechanism. His walls were built up to the skies, too scared to let anyone in, especially in the new world. But you were persistent. You didn’t let him knock you down with his childish behavior and hard glares. The day he apologized for his actions felt like some weight was taken off his shoulders. He hated being mean to you, you didn’t deserve it. Besides you were only doing your job.

After his apology, your sessions went smoother and Steve was actually learning things about the new world. From modern technology, terminology, pop culture, and operating daily appliances, you’ve basically taught Steve the basics of modern life. The more time you both spent together the more you’ve invaded his thoughts. When you left after sessions, he would reminisce about the light blush upon your cheeks, the way your lips moved when you talked, and how your eyes would connect with his. Sometimes he wondered how your lips would feel against his as he drew you in the brown sketchbook you’ve gifted him.

You were like Advil, you took away the pain and thoughts that racked his brain everyday and when he laid awake in his bed at night. He spent most of his time thinking about the past but when you were around you brought him to now. The world that he was in now. Sure, there was no Bucky or Peggy, but he had you. With you, the 21st century didn’t seem that bad.

I've never been this scared before

Feelings I just can't ignore

Don't know if I should fight or fly

But I don't mind

His feelings for you confused him as much as washing machines did. They just had too many buttons, what was the point of all of them? You could press any of them and they’d all wash your clothes, it’s the same result.

Steve wasn’t sure if he should fear his feelings for you or to follow them. The last time he felt this infatuated with a woman was with Peggy. And seeing how things ended up with Peggy, things weren’t so clear for you as well. Steve wasn’t sure if he was ready for a relationship. From having to adjust to the new world, to SHIELD, and being stuck on the past, Steve had a lot on his plate.

He was scared to break his walls down and let you in. He wanted you to be in his life but he was scared of having to face even more change. Steve tried to ignore his feelings for you, but he wasn’t too good at that either. When he ignored his feelings, you’d still find a way to crawl into his thoughts. Which led to him being frustrated at himself.

“Why do you have that look on your face, Steve?” You looked at him curiously, as you sat across from him. The two of you were in his dining room drinking some coffee that Steve successfully brewed.

“What look.” He gruffed out as he stirred his coffee.

“You’ve been glaring down at your coffee for the past few minutes.” You pointed out before taking a sip from your cup. “What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

“I think you’re an amazing gal and I adore you. And I can’t get you out of my damn head. I don’t know how to think straight without you being present in my mind.” Was what Steve wanted to say. He mentally screamed at himself for wanting to admit such a thing. Instead he ignored his stupid thoughts and tried to avoid your question.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, (y/n).” Steve shook his head as he sent you a small smile.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Steve there’s obviously something going on on in your head, I’m not forcing you to tell me. But sometimes it’s nice to voice your thoughts, it helps, trust me.” Your hand glides across the table as it settled above his. The warmth from your palm made him feel safe, it was comforting, like a blanket.

“You don’t need to always keep everything to yourself, Steve. There’s people who are willing to help you and listen, You don’t need to do everything on your own.” Steve feels his hearts race as your hand squeezes his own.

“Doing everything alone is all I know. I mean I’ve always had Bucky, but I just, I’ve always faced things on my own.” Steve explained, the pain could be heard in his voice as he spoke about the past and Bucky.

You nodded understandingly, “I know, Steve. It’s just— If you need anyone to talk to, I’m here for you.”

Mmm

Tripping, falling, with no safety net

Boy, it must be something that you said

Is it real this time or is it in my head?

Got me tripping, falling, with no safety net

Steve allowed himself to be embraced by you. After losing the battle of debating his feelings for you, he realized that he was stupid for pushing away his feelings for you. For once in his life Steve allowed himself to be selfish. He was doing something for him. He liked you and he was going to allow himself to have those feelings for you. No more pushing you away.

You and Steve sat on the couch that was in the living room of the apartment SHIELD had provided him. Unlike the previous months of sitting on separate seats, you guys now shared the couch. The two of you sat side by side in comfort. Steve had laid back on the couch, his legs sprawled in front of him as his hand moved against the paper in his sketchbook. You were facing the window that outlooked the peaceful street Steve lived on. A cup of coffee was in your hands as you stared out the window.

From time to time your shoulder or hand would brush against Steve’s bare arm. The thin material of his short sleeved shirt not doing him any justice, the feeling of electricity rushing through his body made him shiver as goosebumps formed on his skin.

He was discreetly drawing you in his sketchbook. He stole glances at you as you continued to look out the window, eyes slowly drooping. Steve quietly chuckled to himself as he closed his sketchbook and placed it to the side.

“Better not spill all that coffee on my couch.” He teased you with a hint of playfulness in his eyes. You’ve never seen that look in him, usually his eyes were clouded with distraction, longing for something. You’ve always thought that he might’ve been longing for the past, but you could be wrong.

You rest your head on the couch, “It’s not even your couch, Steven.” Steve rolls his eyes and takes your cup from you, placing it on the coffee table.

“It’s still my responsibility.” He watched as you yawned tiredly. You were clearly tired, you had bags under your eyes and you moved slower than you usually did. The only thing to blame was the mission you’ve just returned from.

“You know, you can take a nap if you want. Have you gotten any proper sleep since getting back?” Steve asked as he stood up to grab a blanket that hung on one of his cushioned chairs.

“Does two to three hours count?” You began as he opened up the blanket. “And I don’t want to be a burden Steve, I’m not sleeping on your couch—“ You’re cut off by Steve tucking you into the blanket.

“You’re sleeping here. You’ve been there to help me adapt to the new world and now it’s my turn to help you. So sleep.” He explained with a nod before returning to his spot on the couch.

A few minutes past until he hears you shuffle and suddenly your head is on his lap, “you’re comfier.” You simply say before drifting off.

While you slept before him, Steve couldn’t help but admire the features that graced your face. Every single spot, blemish, the way your eyelashes brushed against the apples of your cheeks, or how your pouty lips were so pink and bright that he wanted to kiss them.

At that moment, as he stared down at you, he realized that he was falling hard, harder than he’s ever fell. But he was okay with it, satisfied actually. He wasn’t hesitant or scared anymore, he was going to jump off from his walls and fall, because somehow he knew you’d be at the bottom ready to catch him. You’re his safety net.

#ally’s 700 celebration #marvel #mcu #avengers #ally’s requests #chris evans #steve rogers #chris evans x reader #cevans #chris evans imagines #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers imagines #Steve Rogers fluff #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fanfic #captain america

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caffeinated-cryptid · 4 years

Text

you got an ego so big (it'll eat you alive).

roman-centric hurt/comfort (w/ remus, patton and virgil).

11.7k words | AO3 link | warnings: self-hatred, semi-intentional self-destruction, various injuries, arguing, remus-typical jokes and topics.

“At the best of times, Roman’s job was a tightrope act between maintaining a healthy amount of self-confidence and the ability to adapt and take criticism. Throughout his life he walks this line many times, always with the expectation that if he were to fall one way or the other, no one would be there to catch him.

But sometimes when you’re up miles high, it can become difficult to see the safety net on the ground below you.

(aka an expansion on the premise that a bruised ego causes literal injuries and the issues this could cause when you're an insecure prince with a need to please and the weight of the world on your shoulders).”

------------------

To be overly aware of your own self is often associated with negative traits, such as narcissism, self-consciousness or a sensitivity to mistakes. Although to some with a proclivity towards the spotlight, it can become an inadvertent consequence of over-analyzing yourself in order to achieve those flawless performances. Naturally, gaining any sort of notoriety and attempting to retain that positive image means becoming intimately aware of your faults and staying open to change, taking criticism to heart all the while keeping relatably humble. On the other hand, it may also mean letting that same criticism become your one sole focus, tearing you down instead of becoming a rung in the ladder that's supposed to take you to higher places.

Roman often found that navigating these gray areas was a momentous task. To be proud of his work, but not be too unbearably egotistical to the point that it blinded him. To accept criticism but not allow the pursuit of perfection to destroy him.

His role was truly a balance; a thin tightrope he constantly had to traverse.

And on occasion, he would end up slipping.

------------------

I - bonds that tie us.

Roman first learned of his job as the ego when Thomas was young. With Remus at the helm of most of the subconscious and instinctual stuff as his id, perhaps he should've assumed that he would have a similar mirrored purpose beyond simply confidence, however it hadn't ever really come into play until one afternoon when the two of them were busy playing in The Imagination.

They had just concluded a close duel against each other and were putting their weapons away (cardboard ones, since Feelings didn't want them running around with real weapons once he found out they were using them to fight, and because Fear and Lies often fretted about them doing something stupid and getting hurt). Usually neither of them held the lead for long during their matches since they were so well-matched, but today Remus had won easily, which Roman chalked up to him feeling off ("Yeah right. Don't be such a sore loser." "It's true!"). Either way, Remus would be bragging about the victory until the next time they got the opportunity to duel, and that meant he was already rubbing it in as they prepared to leave.

On their way to the exit, Remus had taken the lead at some point and was throwing out ideas about they should do later when Roman unexpectedly paused and doubled over, clutching his head. Remus didn't notice that he'd stopped until he heard a groan and turned around.

"What's wrong? Didn't hit you too hard, did I?" He asked with a grin as if he assumed that Roman was still playing- perhaps trying to make up an excuse for his terrible loss.

"I- Dunno. My head hurts…" Roman cringed, eyes screwed shut.

Remus' smile faltered when he realized it might not be a joke and he walked back, peeling Romans hands away from his forehead. Underneath was a large red patch of irritated skin which looked set to bruise. His frown deepened because he definitely didn't cause that, nor did he witness any incidents during the day which would be the cause. "How'd that happen?

"Dunno!" He repeated, eyes going blank for a moment while he caught up with what was happening outside. The two of them were usually much too distracted when they were in The Imagination to pay attention to everything that transpired in the real world, especially on weekdays like this when Thomas would be in school and Creativity wasn't exactly needed during most classes. "...Thomas was told off for slacking in front of the entire class and he got some bad grades on his report card… He's feeling embarrassed, I think.

Remus was confused by how this was relevant until he pieced together that the two events were linked to what was happening to his brother. His eyes widened in realization before they settled into determination. "Then I'll fight him until he stops feeling bad."

That startled a laugh out of Roman, until his head started pounding and he cut himself off with a grimace. "...’Can't do that."

He laughed too, in hopes that it would lift Roman's spirits again. "Can too! I'll figure it out, then he'll be too busy worrying about his broken bones to care about what some dumb teacher said. Maybe then he'll get to skip school for a while and do something funner like-"

"Remus." Roman hissed over him, overcome with a sudden dizzy spell. His hand found Remus’ shoulder for purchase, which stopped his twin in his rant.

Remus stared at him in alarm. This seemed serious, and he didn't do too well with handling serious things. "Do... Do you want me to get Feelings? Or Learning? Or Lies?"

"No. None of them. I just wanna go home." He whined, leaning more and more against Remus for support.

' Home' in their case was what they called their shared room. It was where they always returned to at the end of a long day, and no matter what had happened, they could always feel their troubles wash away as they sat in their own little world once more. Roman longed for that feeling, to escape the too-bright sun of The Imagination which now felt like it was blinding him and just lay down for a while.

Remus nodded hesitantly, the plans he had spun of pulling a prank on Fear and Lies forgotten. Normally the two Creativities preferred to find the door of The Imagination manually (they claimed it made the experience more immersive when they were out on an adventure), but instead he reached towards the exit and the world twisted around them, ejecting them out together. They came out the other side back in their room, next to their bunk bed. Instead of climbing up to his bed on the top, Roman just about threw himself onto Remus' sheets. Somehow he managed to ignore the weird smell of the fabric that he always complained about, which spoke greatly about his current well-being.

Remus hovered behind him, unsure of what to do, when Roman let out another pained noise and curled up tighter. "What now?!"

"Thomas...parents.

Since that didn't really explain anything, Remus decided to check up on what was happening outside himself. Thomas' parents had asked to see his report card and they were giving him the 'not mad but disappointed talk', while Thomas was shrunk into himself in shame. Yikes, Learning mustn't be feeling too hot about this either. But right now his focus was on his brother, who the sight of in such a sorry state filled him with rage.

"Now I want to fight them too." Remus muttered darkly. "Take the knife from the kitchen that dad uses to cut up turkeys and make them stop talking forever. Then we won't have to deal with this again and you won't-"

Oh right, Roman was still injured. Focus, Remus. Concern. Right, he was concerned for his brother, who was hurting like he had never seen, even after their fights. What could he do about this? He was always so much better at destroying things than fixing them, so having to deal with a situation like this without any sort of guidance made him nervous.

"You can't hurt them." Roman protested weakly.

"Maybe if I want to enough I could!"

Remus walked around the bunk bed and settled down on the side Roman was facing towards. From this angle he could see new bruises spattered along his brother's arms. In a grotesque way, the different shades came together like a watercolour painting. Except instead of a canvas, they were on a body- Remus shook his head. Focus! He could draw sickly yellow and purple-inspired pictures later, when Roman would be in the mood to be more good-humored about it.

"You shouldn't, then. It's bad."

"...Alright then. What should I do Ro-bro?"

Roman cracked open one eye and looked at him. "Stay? Until Thomas feels better?"

Considering he was just grounded for the weekend, Remus wasn't sure how long it would take for this hit to Thomas' self esteem to blow over, but despite knowing this he nodded anyway.

"Okay."

He laid down next to Roman, not commenting when he hid his face against the covers and started sniffling, or when he eventually fell asleep, curled against his side like how they would sleep when they were newly-split. When Learning knocked in their door to tell them that dinner was ready, he made a weak excuse that they were busy and would eat later.

Without even asking he knew Roman would want this to be kept between them, despite how the others would undoubtedly fuss and nurse him back to health. And perhaps that was the reason why. His brother always wanted to appear infallible to the others and did so replicating the heroes from the stories they read, which often meant refusing to admit when he needed help and trying to do everything himself. If you asked Remus, he was trying way too hard to be like the Creativity that came before them, which was silly because they were different now and as they were, they needed each other.

Remus closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep too. This seemed like a big deal, so Roman's pride would have to pass eventually for him to seek help. Right?

------------------

II - even without dying you're dead to me.

In retrospect, Remus had underestimated Roman’s ability to keep a secret (maybe because he was so quick these days to run over to Feelings, now Morality, whenever Remus did something to upset him. Tattle-tale).

Now that they were older and their roles were more defined, their once shared-room had separated into two to adjust to this change. Even though it had been long enough that he should be used to the feeling of being alone, there were still times where Remus had to try to not let it bother him when he looked up at night, expecting to see the familiar underside of a top bunk and instead only finding the ceiling he had painted an underwater-themed mural on.

On nights like this, far too sentimental to enter a peaceful rest, they would go sleep in each other's rooms, saying nothing as they tried to pretend they were as close as they once were. Remus groaned into his pillow, fighting that annoying urge to seek comfort. He was a teenager now, he didn't want to be so attached at the hip to a side who had started looking at him with disgust and fear instead of the fondness they used to share. Sometimes he couldn't help it though, clinging to the days when everything felt simple and the biggest thing they had to worry about was finding time to create the things they enjoyed. At the very least he was glad that Roman didn't mock him for his occasional bouts of uncharacteristic sentiment; that would solidify for him that there were no remnants of the relationship they once had left.

With that depressing thought, he rolled out of bed. He couldn't sleep tonight so he was going to make that Roman's problem; that always cheered him up. Perhaps if he hadn't made such a disturbed face when Remus had talked about the brazen bull he had made earlier that day, he would feel a bit more sympathy for waking his brother up in the middle of the night. Buuut he didn't and he was feeling petty, so without a second thought he sunk out and into Romans room.

"WAKEY WAKEY~!" Remus clashed two cymbals together like one of those nightmare-inducing wind-up monkeys, only to belatedly realize the bed he was facing was empty.

He blinked, both in confusion and to adjust his eyes to the unexpected light of the room. Both of them may be night owls, but Roman would usually be asleep by 2am at least, and it was way past that hour. Looking around the room, his eyes latched onto the vanity where his brother was sitting, looking incredibly startled from the deafening crash of metal against metal.

"Get out!" He yelled once his shock faded into indignation, glaring at Remus.

Remus didn’t respond, staring at the medical supplies spread across the surface. Roman was in the middle of wrapping a compression bandage around his thigh, which he abandoned as soon as Remus had entered.

"Did you get something stuck in your ear again? I'm not in the mood to deal with you tonight, Remus. Leave ."

"What happened?" He blurted out before he could even think about the question.

"Doesn't matter. In case you've forgotten, the door's right there. Feel free to use it at any point."

Instead of complying (because when had Remus ever done that for anyone? No no, it was always more exciting to do the opposite of what people ask and see what happens), he crossed the room, ignoring how Roman increasingly looked like he wanted to punch him the longer he lingered.

"Bitch, it obviously does matter, otherwise you wouldn't be looking like you got trampled by a cracked-out horse."

"Lovely imagery." Roman gritted out.

"Lovely avoidance." Remus retorted sarcastically. "Aren't you best friends with Morality and Logic now? Why aren't they here sucking your d-"

"If you don't go back to your own room I'll run you through with my sword." Roman warned with an air of finality.

Remus snorted.

It was hard to be intimidated by the same side who had once cried when he had accidentally smashed an imaginary caterpillar cocoon with his morning star. In his defense he had forgotten to make the handle weighted when he first made it, so he was still getting used to the uneven distribution of the weapon...not like that stopped Roman from getting upset with him. Supposedly he had spent the last week trying to raise butterflies and wanted to show them off to Logic after they had learned about chrysalis in class, but Remus found that somewhat laughable considering he could just create a fully-formed butterfly if he wanted to. So he did laugh, calling him dumb for getting upset over nothing, and through tears Roman pushed him to the ground and told him he hated him for the first time. (After that, he may have spent the next week killing any butterflies that crossed his path, but that was neither here nor there. The point of this tangent provided a lá Remus Sander's brain was was that Roman could be a big baby and therefore he couldn't take anything he said too seriously.)

"Sounds like a good time! Save that idea for later though, because if you don't tell me I'll summon them over here to ask them myself."

"Don't. They don't know about this, alright? For once in your life can you just let it go?"

Huh. Remus tilted his head. It had been years since they first found out about the fun little quirk Roman had, and he just...never told? He figured at the very least it would be a good way to milk even more attention from the others; something Creativity had been seeking more often after Fear turned into Anxiety during middle school and gained a much larger role in Thomas' life. "Why?"

Roman huffed in frustration. "They don't need to. I can handle it myself."

"...Wow! Careful not to summon Lies, because you're full of shit and you know it." Remus fired back. He didn't even know why he was getting so mad. Minutes ago he was cursing his brother's guts for how their relationship had soured, and now all of a sudden it was if all of that dislike had faded into the background for something else. Concern? He hadn't felt concern for anything in years. Roman always made it seem like he could take care of himself, so that's what Remus had believed at first too, though perhaps stumbling across this situation was evidence of the opposite. Reasonable self-care didn't exactly look like 'patching yourself up at 4 in the morning'. At least, that sounded like something Lies would say which probably meant it was accurate.

"Ugh- Shut up. I've been doing just fine so far, without you or them, so you can take your fake pity and shove it up your you-know-where."

Remus didn't rise to the opportunity to poke fun at that statement, his mind going blank (and what a strange and unusual feeling that was). The idea that anything could have been hidden from him seemed unthinkable given how they used to tell each other everything. He hadn't even considered that that habit had become one-sided, given how it had never stopped being true for him. "...Roman, what does that mean? Has this been happening a lot?"

"..."

"Why did you never tell me?! This isn't something you can just keep a secret! If you won't say anything I will-

Remus' mouth snapped shut as Roman ejected him from his room. He landed back on his own bed and when he scrambled onto his feet to tried to rise up again, he found that his efforts were blocked. Roman had kicked him out and locked the door behind him. He never did that, no matter how much they fought or annoyed each other. It was the one thing they did that showed they still cared.

Remus trembled with adrenaline and shock. Taking his pillow, he summoned a knife and stabbed it and stabbed it and stabbed it until all of his pent up feelings were gone and there all that was left was the fluff covering his floor.

------------------

III - interlude.

As it turns out, he'd never get the opportunity to tell, because shortly after that, the newly appointed 'dark sides' were pushed away into their own corner of the mindscape after an explosive argument between the sides (during which Remus tried to ignore how closely Roman stood at Morality's side, sword brandished towards him. He didn't want to think his twin had a hand in their separation, even though it made so much sense).

When he argued about going back with Lies, now Deceit after being appointed the new leader of the unwanted and unloved, he was told through clenched teeth and pained eyes that he shouldn't. Not until Thomas was ready for him. For all of them.

------------------

IV - to the death of me, i'm just fulfillin' my destiny.

After that, Roman adjusted, and did so alone. Teenage years came with many challenges, ones he didn’t always escape unscathed. Despite the occasional rejection here, an unfortunate setback there, he felt as if he had grown a thicker skin for the trials they faced. Into adulthood he wore his ego like a suit of armor; Thomas was outgoing and likable, so of course it became easier to brush aside random negative experiences as minor blips, things that didn’t represent their worth.

This was challenged somewhat as he began pursuing creative outlets more seriously. This meant more work for Roman in general (Woo! Suck it Logan), but it also came with more opportunities to feel ashamed of a messed-up performance, embarrassed by a note sung wrong, hurt by an ill-intentioned piece of feedback.

So he tried to compensate at times. Sue him. Between the nights he spent nursing his wounds and wondering how to do better next time, perhaps he deserved to be a little self-congratulatory about the shining achievements he won for them. There was a certain safety in placing himself up on that pedestal, so high above that it felt like nobody could ever reach him; that he was above it all. But the reality was that this pedestal, gold-plated as it may be, was founded on an interior of paper mache, one wrong move from away from collapsing and sending him tumbling back down to earth.

It was a good thing that pretending came naturally to Roman. So natural that the fear of falling sometimes didn’t register with him at all.

------------------

V - the calamitous corollary of being considered.

Except, it may have been too much to expect nobody to ever realize there was something up with him. The fact that the sides had to work closely together alone meant that the excuse of being busy after every troubling experience could only work for so long.

The first one to find out was Patton, because of course it was. Sometimes Roman felt as if Patton wasn’t given enough credit for his intelligence. Even though he could be a tad slow on the uptake on other things, his ability to detect the slightest change in mood and discern how people were feeling could be uncanny at times. Emotions just happened to be Patton's strong suit, and while that was very much appreciated when it came to sharing excitement or talking through a heated problem, it was not so grand when you were trying to get away with hiding something.

The first time he let something slip was a few days after Thomas had been flat-out rejected when asking someone out on a date. It wasn't that big of a blow, considering they had barely known the guy for more than a month, but Roman had been insistent that they throw caution into the wind and give it a shot, sure that he had been receiving signals that proved that this guy felt a similar interest. Turns out, he didn't, and was very-much straight. At least the rejection had been somewhat carried out gently and he didn't seem too put-off about staying friends afterwards. Nonetheless the wound was still fresh, and Thomas kept internally cringing whenever he thought about it, which didn't help matters. Whatever. Roman dealt with the bruises that arose from the incident and dabbed a little foundation on the ones he couldn't hide with clothing. They'd get over it in a matter of weeks.

It was after the awkward feelings had finally begun to settle when it happened. Roman and Patton had been in the kitchen preparing dinner when Thomas received a message on his phone, and when he went to check it, he face-planted on the couch in mortification.

'Hey man, I just remembered that my cousin is coming to town this weekend. He's gay too so I thought you two could go on a blind date if you're still looking. :) Lmk your thoughts.'

Patton frowned upon sensing the sudden wave of embarrassment, pausing to check what had happened. "Well...That's thoughtful of him!" He chuckled, tone trying and failing to be positive. Roman couldn't share the same sentiment.

"Thoughtless is more like it! He wants to set us up with the first gay person he knows? Who's not even in the city? Does he think Thomas has no standards at all?! How dare-" Roman's indignant protests cut off as he felt the skin around his collar grow tender and swell slightly. He let out a slight whimper when he pressed his fingers into the bruise to double check its location. Why now and in such a visible place?! He's going to get Thomas to drop that guy if it's the last thing he does-

"Ro! Are you okay?"

Right. Patton was still here. Don't panic.

"Y-yeah! I just remembered an injury I sustained earlier. But not to worry, 'tis but a flesh wound!" He joked.

"A flesh wound?!" Patton cried, reference flying over his head. "Let me see."

Gently, Patton moved his head upwards to get a better look at the bruise. It mustn't look good, because Patton, squeamish as he was, grimaced on sight.

"How on earth did that happen? I don't remember that being there just now."

"Uh." Come on Creative skills, work your magic. "A stray whomping willow in The Imagination? You know how they can be. I suppose it merely took a while to develop, bruises can be funny like that."

Luckily it seemed to work, because Patton sighed. "I thought you got rid of them all after that time one almost threw Logan into a lake. Did Remus make more?"

Heh. Good times. That was a slight lie on his behalf when he had told the others he had gotten rid of the trees; he had kept a few of them around because they were once a gift from Remus to quote 'spice up his boring forests'. Not for any sentimental reasons, of course, but because he thought it was funny and it kept him on his toes. "I guess."

Patton made a small 'tsk' noise, mouth still drawn in a frown but he didn't comment further. "Come on, I'll help you treat that. Does it hurt?"

"Of course not." He smiled. "Do you really think I could be bested by a mere tree?"

"Never! I do wish you were more careful when you go on your little adventures, though. It makes me awfully sad to think about you in 'pine'."

Roman knew it had been a flimsy excuse and even though Patton seemed to accept it, there was a hesitation in his eye which spoke of hidden disbelief. After some first aid and many more tree-related puns later, they went back to cooking, finishing up 30 minutes later. When Logan came down to dinner, immediately questioning the bandages around Roman's neck, he repeated the fake story, distracting him with a request not to go into The Imagination with the whomping willow around and packaging the thinly-veiled jab at the way Logan had once freaked out when he was swung around by the semi-sentient tree as a warning. Logan's concern quickly faded and he shot back a sharp retaliation that Roman didn't care to remember. He just laughed, feeling as light as a kite with the crisis averted.

The next time didn't go over as gracefully.

Thomas had found a different partner eventually, one that wasn't some friend's cousin. They dated for months, and just when he had been thinking about inviting his boyfriend to move in so he could be closer to his workplace, he'd been broken up with. On Valentines Day of all days. There was no better way of putting it; they had planned to go out to dinner, managing to book a table at a fairly classy restaurant, exchanged gifts, and near the end of the night his boyfriend had leaned across the table with a sad smile, thanking him for the evening before admitting he didn't see them working out anymore. He said it quietly, as to not cause a scene among the other diners, but that didn't stop Thomas from immediately bursting into tears. The scene had caused his (now ex) boyfriend to leave early after paying his half of the bill. At least the waitress had taken pity on him and brought over more complimentary bread rolls (which he took because he was not a complete fool, heartbroken as he may be), though even that didn't stop the confusion and embarrassment of it all.

As expected, the whole incident caused nothing but chaos; the right-brain sides were devastated, Anxiety was in a state of panic, and Logic had been metaphorically thrown out the window. As Thomas made his way home, they were at a complete loss for what to do. They had started the day, hoping to take a step forward in their relationship, and ended up with nothing at all. What worse is that they didn't even have a clear idea why (admittedly, that could have been due to, as mentioned before, the inconsolable crying).

It seemed like the most sensible thing to do at the moment was to throw the Valentines gifts away and gorge on the ice-cream that had been sitting in the back of the freezer for who-knows how long while watching a comfort show and trying to forget the whole evening. So that's what they did. As Logan tried to sort through what happened and rationalize what to do next, Patton wallowed in his misery as he dealt with the giant mix of feelings Thomas was going through.

After a few hours working through the brunt of it, enough to where his mind began wandering elsewhere, Patton realized with a start that he hadn't seen Roman since the start of the evening. He must have been so devastated too! Patton recalled how excited he was about the day ahead of them, how he spun fantasies of Thomas' boyfriend accepting the proposal to move in and then the future proposals that could come after that-

Patton mournfully sobbed. He needed to stop thinking about this, or else Thomas could start spiraling again. The best thing to do right now was distract himself, and to do that he should go check on Roman. Perhaps they could talk and have a mutual catharsis over the whole thing. Or better yet, he could put his energy towards someone else and he won't have to fall back into the thoughts that had been clouding his mind ever since they had left that stupid restaurant.

Splashing some water on his face to clear up some of the blotchy-ness, he left his room and crossed the hallway towards Roman's. He couldn't hear any noise coming from inside, so he tentatively knocked. "Kiddo?"

For a few moments there was silence, and Patton almost turned away, assuming that Roman might be blowing off some steam in The Imagination, until a voice cleared inside the room and answered. "Pat? What do you want?"

Patton was taken aback for a second, not expecting such a straight-forward answer. It almost sounded like Roman wasn't upset at all, but Patton sincerely doubted that to be true. His tone was almost too normal, and for anybody else he wouldn't have questioned it, but the lack of dramatics or flowery language was always a clear red flag for the Creative side. "I wanted to check on you since um- You-Know-Who took 'dine and dash' a tad too seriously." He chuckled humorlessly. "...Can I come in?"

There was some shuffling and muffled curses. "Why? I'm fine. Worry about yourself."

"'Why?'" He repeated, eyeing the door warily. "I'm concerned! I haven't seen you in hours and I- I know you must be upset about this too. Can we please talk?"

"I'm not exactly my most princely presentable self right now. Anyway, it's late. Surely this can wait until tomorrow?"

Patton looked down at himself. Instead of his usual garb, he had thrown on some more comfortable clothes hours ago, and they were currently crumpled from laying in bed, sobbing his eyes out. "I'm hardly my best-self either right now, Kiddo-" Before he could go on a spiel about how it was best to not bottle up emotions when they're fresh (and ignoring the hypocrisy of that sentiment), he heard a thump on the other side of the door followed by a quiet hiss of pain. Patton began to panic, and his hand flew to the handle. "I'm coming in!"

Before the other side could even consider protesting, Patton flung the fortunately unlocked door open and stepped into the room, gasping at the sight he was met with. Roman was on the floor, wincing as he clutched his leg. Although he was still dressed in his usual outfit, there were enough injuries on his visible skin that Patton could only wonder how far they went. He covered his mouth and stared in horror as Roman turned to look at him nervously.

"What- How did this happen?!"

Roman licked his dry lips, eyes darting away as he searched for an excuse. "I- The Imagination- This is from earlier-"

"You told me this morning you were going to spend the day helping Thomas write a love letter." Patton said, voice strained with panic and disbelief. "Tell me the truth, please."

Shoot, he had announced his plans earlier that day, hadn't he? He internally cursed his inability to keep his mouth shut, before lowering his head in defeat. "Can you keep a secret, Pat?"

Said side shifted uncomfortably, but his tone was resolute when he nodded. "If it means you'll let me help with whatever this is."

"Okay..." Roman inhaled. "Okay."

And then he explained. Or rather, gave a shortened version of the truth which was less likely to give Patton a complete heart-attack: that bruised egos were something he experienced, but it was never this bad (true) or all that common (also true), and that they weren't something to worry about because he could usually take care of them himself (technically true). By the time he had finished, Patton still looked concerned, but had become less frantic with the information.

"You'll let me help in the future if you need it, right?" He asked, so close to shedding tears that Roman had trouble keeping eye-contact without becoming choked up with guilt.

"If I need it." He agreed.

Finally, Patton smiled, and went to fetch the first-aid kit hastily. As he helped patch him up for the second time that year, the look in Patton's eyes was so pained that Roman vowed to let him see this side of him as little as possible.

For a while, he kept true to this promise to himself, and on the occasions when Patton would drop by to check if everything was alright, if Roman had encountered any bruised egos since, he relished in the relief on his face whenever he would lie and said he hadn't. Distantly he wondered sometimes if this was how heroes were supposed to feel; protecting people by letting them live in blissful ignorance and bearing the burden of the ugly truth alone.

(It was thoughts like that that kept him going.)

------------------

VI - high highs and low lows.

And then came the videos. Youtube had been an excellent ego-boost for Roman. Similar to how life-changing Vine was, the instant gratification of likes and feedback and people liking what they made was enough to send him over the moon, and oftentimes it was able to ward away the downsides that came with it too; the stress of staying relevant, the occasional hate comment, the portion of dislikes that didn't explain what about the video was dislike-worthy-

Overall it seemed like a great idea, especially when the sides became involved. It gave them all the chance to gain their own spotlights, which most of them appreciated. Sometimes this wasn't always so good though. With the videos came more introspection than usual, which meant deeply examining each problem to try to find some kind of moral. And right now, Roman didn't want to do any sort of thinking exercise about how badly he messed up. At this point in their career, a simple audition should have been a cake walk, instead it was an ache walk...Okay, admittedly he wasn't on his best game right now. The point was, he had potentially thrown the whole audition by forgetting something so simple as the lyrics, and now the casting director would definitely only remember Thomas by the way he froze under pressure, which wasn't exactly an appealing trait in somebody looking to go up on stage where the pressure was set to 100.

After everything was said and done, Roman had no choice but to approach Patton for help. In his current state, he was much too dizzy on his feet to even contemplate showing up and trying to play it off cool, which would've been an laughable endeavor anyhow considering how outwardly embarrassed Thomas was. Betrayal from his own-- well. It was a bit too harsh to blame his current predicament on Thomas, after all the fact of the matter was that it was Roman’s fault for not being better prepared.

Anyway, that's how he ended up in his current position, being swaddled in a too-warm bed, injuries patched up and having soup spoon-fed into his mouth. The whole thing felt...strange. Usually during times like this he would be grinning and bearing it, the inner satisfaction he got from fooling everyone with his performance pushing him through the day, but he supposed this was unavoidable. It was better that only one side had to see part of the problem rather than exposing it to everyone, and out of all of them, at least it was Patton. It still didn't sit well that his secret was now out in the open, a throwaway joke to be used before moving along, but hopefully that would play to his favor and they'd view it as his usual dramatics. Not like he preferred to be seen as too incompetent to care for himself, even if it fit with his persona. He supposed it just went without saying that princes are supposed to have someone at their every beck and call, they're supposed to be indulgent and spoiled and ridiculous. But princes were also supposed to be leaders, someone who was caring and brave and ready to face any challenge.

Roman sighed, a wave of self-loathing washing over him. He didn't feel very princely at all right now.

“Kiddo, are you doing okay? Does something hurt? Is the soup too hot?” Patton asked, eyebrows drawing together in concern. He was such an open book when it came to the other sides, which meant that Roman knew exactly when he had worried or panicked the fatherly figure. Honestly, it only made him feel worse. Being doted over seemed like a good idea until it meant being the subject of pity and other people’s hurt.

“No no, I’m fine Padre. It’s fine. I was just taking a trip into thought city for a second there.” He cracked a smile, trying to ignore how the bruise at the corner of his mouth pulled at the motion. If only he could think of a more original nickname, perhaps that would be more convincing. He was simply drawing blanks today it seemed. “What do you think the others are up to right now? I’d bet 5 bucks Logan is losing his mind having to deal with Anxiety alone.”

Patton didn’t look entirely convinced, but the sudden change of subject encouraged him to stop any further questioning.

In the end they talked until the others had finished filming. Whatever happened during the discussion must have helped Thomas grow past his feelings, because one-by-one the injuries on Roman's body grew smaller until they had faded entirely. Seeing this, Patton noticeably livened up again, and he cheerily declared that he would take the empty bowl back to the kitchen and check in with the others.

As soon as he was gone, Roman’s face dropped, tired from all the smiling he had been doing, and he slid down further into the sheets. Perhaps he should consider himself fortunate that the others had helped out, but all he could think about was how they now knew about his biggest weakness and how embarrassing that was. Logan and Anxiety were the last two sides he wanted finding out about this, if not for their often-tumultuous relationships, but because they'd never fully understand. Neither of them were as dependent on validation as much as he was. Despite what others thought about them, they would just keep on going, meanwhile Roman couldn't truly thrive without some kind of feedback; he was too shackled to expectations and the need to please for that sort of self-indulgence, it was practically written in his existence. It simply wasn't enough for him to be great, he needed to be great and be appreciated. Without that, he felt as if he would burn out, like a candle who's supply of oxygen had been cut off, leaving only smoke and the charred wick behind as a reminder of the fire that was once there. And sometimes that made him feel pathetic, that so much of his esteem depended on what people thought of him. Other times it just made him envy the others who had no one to please but Thomas himself and what he deemed important.

...He was tired, but he needed to keep going. The least he could do was keep up the image of egotism so that those horrid thoughts of being lesser weren't picked up by the others. If they started thinking of him the way he thought about himself (if they didn't already), he wouldn't know what he'd do. He wouldn't stand to be pitied or mocked or anything that validated what he already knew about himself. He just wouldn't.

Rolling out of bed, he practiced his smile in the mirror, fixed his clothes, and sunk out to make his grand appearance.

He couldn’t let this happen again at all costs.

------------------

VII - an agreeable sort of self-destruction.

More and more often, Roman was glad that he and Remus didn't share a room anymore. From the nights he hunched over scraps of ideas and worked without distraction until the sun was on the horizon, to the days he woke up with tears clinging to his lashes and breath coming out in labored pants, until he realizes the dream about him messing up so badly that he's split apart a second time was merely a cruel trick of his mind.

Currently, there was no greater time to be grateful for their separation than the moment he hastily returned back to safety after Remus' debut to Thomas. If only his brother could see the way he paced back and forth and tugged at his hair, he was sure his other half would merely gloat and poke away at his wounds instead of doing anything to help. Or worse, use it as ammunition in front of the other sides as some sort of proof of his imperfection.

Speaking of, the video was disastrous. He had been out-cold the entire time so he had no idea what was said and had no way of directing the conversation at all, which was possibly the most aggravating part of the whole situation. Beyond that, there was so much that Remus could have told the others without his knowledge. Once upon a time, the two of them were two peas in a pod, and that meant they knew an unnameable amount of secrets about each other. (Like how Remus always used to sleep with this crudely-knitted octopus Roman had made for him when he discovered crochet. Remus claimed to have set fire to it when they were teenagers, but Roman had seen it tucked away on a shelf the last time he had been in his room, before the Great Divide). The room swam a little when Roman thought about it too much. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but it wasn't as if he'd done much to earn Remus' loyalty. Why would he take the higher road and keep all of that to himself now, when he had the prime opportunity right in front of him to make himself seem like the better twin?

Hold on... He was thinking about this all wrong. Remus didn't care about good and bad the same way he did. Sure he was adamant that his version of being creative was more interesting, but he never tried to convince any of the other sides that he was inherently better or more worthy of attention than Roman, at least not to the same extent he did. The realization hit Roman like a train on it's way to a damsel tied to railway tracks (for lack of a less Remus-y simile): had he been wrong to push his brother away when he was just trying to help? All this time he had expected nothing but the worst from him, all because he was loud and unapologetic and had gone about his concern in a way that frightened him. Though just because Roman had been scared, surely that didn't warrant the dark sides being pushed aside in such a manner, and clearly the repression wasn't any benefit to Thomas...And was that partially his fault? He had been the one who encouraged Patton to divide the sides up. He had come up with the name for them: light and dark.

When he really thought about it, there wasn't much 'light' about him, not when he had been the source of so many problems.

Making Virgil feel unwelcome and continuing to trample on his boundaries.

His insults toward Logan and attempts to diminish his importance.

Leading Thomas and Patton astray in his pursuits for romance.

Being too quick to side with Janus when he should’ve known that the deceitful side only stood for selfishness and not the fair-played ambition Thomas valued.

And now: his treatment of Remus for most of their lives. Pushing him away, pretending he didn't exist, trying to erase their memories together.

How could he have the gall to claim that he saw Remus as an awful reflection of everything he didn’t want to be, when the whole point of looking into a mirror means facing you and you alone?

Even his metaphors were hypocritical.

It was a shock that nobody saw through that statement or called him out on how he had wronged just about everybody. How truly unfortunate it was that he had been declared the hero when he had done very little to live up to that title. Heroes weren't mean. They didn't make people feel bad about themselves for merely existing. They're supposed to defeat the bad guys, yes, but every time he had thought he was accomplishing that, it turned out that he was always off the mark. At least this time he had it right with Deceit, but still, that didn't erase the history he had with misjudging what was acceptable. He couldn't help but wonder what sort of reflection that must have on Thomas' content. If his creativity, which was supposed to be a force of pure good, had made a countless number of errors, what did that say about the things they were proud of? How many things had they put into the world that were imperfect? That had a misleading message? That was problematic and hurt people?

The realization had his throat tightening in panic. How could he ever have confidence in his work when he had such a flawed system of right and wrong? How-

...Wait.

Roman's spiraling thoughts were fortunately put on pause as he passed by his vanity, being pulled back to reality in an instant and finally noticing the splash of colours that had made themselves welcome on his skin once more. He gaped at his own reflection. It wasn’t as if he was unused to the sight per say, but he hadn’t realized anything had happened today that would affect Thomas’ ego. Remus’ appearance perhaps? He had the feeling that if there was any discussion to be had in light of that it would be on the goodness of his character, which could be a worthy-enough explanation. But if anything wouldn’t that what the large gash on the back of his head (fittingly) represented? So where had the others come from? Unless…

Was it him?

His own self-criticism had never left a dent on his pride before. Usually his injuries tended to be the result of outside sources; the kind of things that come out of nowhere and hit at you harder than you could ever expect. Did this mean that his own words were on par with Thomas’ harshest critics?

Roman shakily sat down. This... was a good thing, right? Perhaps he was finally gaining some self-awareness. He had been trying to make amends for where he had fallen short in the past, so this could be the sign he was making progress.

Yes. This was good. And if it wasn't, then perhaps this was just apart of his repentance. At this point he was sure everyone would agree.

------------------

VIII - the art of learning to let go.

The thing about tightropes is quite interesting. Like most other skills, it is something that needs to be honed. At first you try on a smaller scale and fall off more times you can count, but it's alright because that's why you practice in a safe environment. And then you progress to something more risky, and this time you have other tools to help keep you steady. Before you know it, you're up doing the actual thing; a rope suspended tens of feet in the air and thousands of eyes watching your every move, each one wondering if you really will make it across, or if they're about to watch a great tragedy take place before them. When you misjudge your own abilities and are thrust upon that rope when you're unprepared, however, all of the practice you gained can feel as if it has slipped away. As soon as you take your first step, the rope wobbles and you know somewhere deep down that your fall will be inevitable. But with so many expectant eyes baring into you, what else are you to do but continue forward? Continue until you're halfway across and your balance is so shaky that all you can do is watch as the rope swings backwards and forwards beneath your feet until you give up on trying to steady yourself entirely and-

Roman let go of the rope he had been clinging onto.

There was no grace in the way that he fell. It wasn't even a matter of choosing a side; ego or change. At first he fell so gradually that he didn't feel it at all, placing all of his thoughts and opinions into a neat little box and shoving them aside. Trying so hard to adapt, trying to be feel comfortable clinging to reasoning that contradicted his role, his meaning, his existence- and before he knew it, he was plummeting towards the ground because even then, that little piece of purpose he was forcing himself to mold his worth around did nothing but feed into the self-righteousness that must've always been there, hiding away under the surface.

Roman could only describe the feeling as air-sickness when he sunk out, his very being thrown into weightless uncertainty. Once he appeared back at his safe place, the place he wanted to be most, he felt his body connect with the ground once more as he collapsed onto the floor, body shaking with sobs and wounds he already knew were appearing.

He had been so stupid. Every step he took was littered with mistakes. Just when he thought he had learned, to try to be more accepting, to know when to give up, to listen to others instead of forging his own path, another thing came along and knocked him back to where he started and he was thrown back into the cycle of trying to atone for his actions. A cycle that never seemed to end.

His arm fractured and started to swell.

For once he thought he finally had it figured out. If he just followed the person who should've known what was best for Thomas, even if it meant going back on his own desires, surely then he would be on the right side for once. But all of a sudden that was wrong and now it was all his fault that so many bad outcomes had come about as a consequence of his lack of assertion. He may not have loaded the gun, but he had pulled the trigger, and that made him more culpable than anyone else.

His nose ached as if hit by an unseen force and began dripping blood.

Even his attempts at keeping his ego in check were all for nothing because the moment he felt threatened he lashed out towards Janus, the side who now all of a sudden deserved a seat at the table because he had gained Patton's favor (nevermind that he had agreed with him first. Oh no, that was just Roman being naive and easy to sway if only you stroke his ego a little. What importance could his opinions possibly have?). But that was the thing, wasn’t it? In the end he just couldn’t win, no matter what he did. When he tried to silence his voice it was too obvious and attention-seeking, and when he chose to project his thoughts it was too loud and abrasive. When he spoke out he was punching down, but when others did the same they were punching up up up. It left him wondering how much more he had to fall before it was no longer deemed okay to kick him while he was down. Was it his fault for choosing to sit atop his golden pedestal, making himself seem forever untouchable and unable to be hurt? And would things be different if he was sensitive like Patton? Complicated like Virgil? Respectable like Logan? Had he been making a mistake all along by pretending to be stronger than he was? But how was he ever supposed to let go of the walls he had built, knowing that the second they crumbled, all the things he had been trying to protect himself from would pass through and destroy everything he had worked so hard for? Maybe it was time to accept that this was all he could be; that there was no way for him to change, no way to soften his edges or stick firm to his beliefs that wouldn’t end with him in a losing position.

His ribs ached, bending unnaturally until he felt a snap in his chest.

Perhaps Janus was right by calling him evil. He had proven it time and time again that he was no good for Thomas. In fact, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to say that he was worse than Remus. At least he couldn't help the way he was, didn't have control over the problems he caused unlike Roman. He was supposed to be the half with all the bad parts removed. The 2.0 version, new and improved. He had no excuse for being as flawed as he was, not really. All this time spent thinking he was the good twin, and it was nothing more than an act of self-delusion. The grandeur of a side with nothing to show for it beyond his words.

His eyelid puffed up and mottled with colour.

...He was bad. Unneeded. Evil.

The capillaries across his knuckles burst and stained them a violent red.

Everything would be so much better if he just-

"Broman?" Oh shit.

Romans eyes flew open. And he realized belatedly that he wasn't looking at his floor; his floor had intricate Persian rugs and a soft fluffy carpet. This one had various stains and burns and felt scratchy against his fingers.

"What the fuck. Princey? You good?"

1) He wasn't in his room. 2) Wherever he was, Remus and Virgil were here too.

"M-my mistake! I must have accidentally sunk out to the wrong place. If you'll excuse me-" He tried, but his voice was hoarse and clearly not okay. Of all times for his acting skills to have failed him.

"Oh no you don't."

Before he could sink out through the floor, two arms latched under his armpits and hoisted him upright. He choked back a gasp at the sudden movement, senses flashing white as his injuries were jostled. He barely heard the shocked exclamation in front of him before the two voices discussed something hastily and he was deposited onto a soft surface. The ringing in his ears faded, just in time to hear Virgil speak.

"What happened? " He asked, voice layered with anxiety and sounding on the verge of a panic attack. Roman would have tried to reassure him if he didn't feel like his entire body was on fire.

"It just happens sometimes, when Thomas’ ego gets bruised." Remus answered bitterly when it became clear his brother wasn't in a position to explain. He then muttered under his breath: "Though this time is different, huh?"

"What? I thought- I didn’t know it got this bad.” Virgil whispers, horrified.

"Sorry you have to see this, Finding Emo." Roman croaked once he began slowly coming back to his senses. He would regret not being more composed later, but right now he couldn't really bring himself to care about anything. “I’ll be as good as Gucci soon.”

"No. Shut the fuck up, you don't get to say that." Remus said angrily. Why did he sound so mad? Roman tried to crack open his eyes to check, but the world was still spinning too much for him to really recognize what was he was seeing. On top of that it seemed one of his eyes was swollen shut. Joy. That'll make it more difficult to patch himself up later.

"'Told you before, I can handle myself." He finally managed.

"Yeah? Was that you 'handling yourself' when you dropped in and started bleeding all over my floor? Or when you stopped talking to me and kicked us 'dark sides' to the curb because your sense of superiority was more important? Or when you started acting like a royal prick to everyone just so they wouldn't know you spend your nights licking your wounds?"

"Stop." Roman pleaded, shamefully curling into himself as much as his body allowed in its current state. Remus paused in his tirade before continuing, more quietly.

"If you're uncomfortable just from that, you should try watching your brother slowly self-destruct for years and not being able to do anything about it. That's fucking uncomfortable." Roman heard a sniffle, and his body went cold. He hadn't heard Remus get upset since they were kids. Sometimes he forgot that there was more to his brother than his disgusting unpredictable persona, and the thought that he could've been hurting Remus all this time was something that had never even crossed his mind.

"I'm..." Sorry? Was he sorry? Apologizing was practically second nature at this point, but he couldn't even tell if the words would be genuine if he said them. Was he sorry for his actions or for hurting Remus, or was it the fact that he had been caught at all? If he had it his way, none of this would be happening, so perhaps he wasn't as apologetic as he thought. He really was the worst, wasn't he?

Remus seemed to pick up on what he was thinking about saying, because he laughed; not in his usual cartoon-ish way, but resigned and hurt. The sound pulled at Roman's heart. "Save it. Here's what's going to happen you Walmart Prince Eric knockoff. You’re going to accept our help whether you like it or not, and if you try to pull any self-sacrificing BS at any point, I’m going to eat your entire makeup collection.”

“...You wouldn’t. You don’t like the way glitter sticks to your teeth.” Roman argued weakly, just for the sake of being contrary.

“Try me.”

Roman sighed. He really didn’t doubt that Remus would be petty enough to go through with his threats, especially since he knew it how much it would bother Roman to summon a new set. In any case, he wasn’t in a position to do much of anything at the moment, and now that it was too late to pretend like this never happened, he figured he might as well roll with it. Future him could deal with the consequences later.

“Okay.” He said after a moments pause, looking to the Virgil-shaped figure, as much as the crick in his neck would allow. “...Just don’t tell Patton about this. Not yet.”

The figure shuffled, out of what was probably awkwardness after having watching the twins argue. “No worries dude. We’re not exactly on- uh. Y’know what, nevermind, I’ll just go get the medical kit.”

During the moments that Virgil had shuffled off, there was an empty silence. Roman spent it trying to blink his uninjured eye back into focus, until he was finally able to spot Remus standing across from him, an uncharacteristically glum look on his face. "You look like you're going to a funeral."

"Don't even joke about that. I don't need more thoughts about-"

"Death? I thought that was pretty par for the course."

Remus smiled wryly at him, sarcastic and mocking. "You dying, dummy. D'you think I never imagined it? Something happening and you disappearing because you never let anyone help you- and me not even knowing it happened? Finding out much too late? Being alone?"

Roman didn't know what to say to that. "Sorry." He blurted out, and this time he felt like he meant it. "If it means anything in retrospect, I wouldn't have ever let it go that far. I think."

"'You think.'" Remus repeated. "God, you need some self-care. It's a shame you and Jan-jan weren't friends before. It's supposed to be his job to make sure this kind of thing doesn't happen, you know."

Roman felt himself flinch at the mention of Janus' name before he could control it. If Remus noticed, he didn't get the chance to comment on it, because at that moment Virgil came bustling back with a first aid kit.

"I didn't know what else you needed, so I got some water, balms, bandages, frozen peas, and creams. Just in case." He spoke, noticeably out of breath.

"Water?" Roman asked as a glass was held towards him. He pushed himself upright with some effort and accepted it.

"For painkillers." Virgil replied, handing him some pills once he had set the other items down. "Also your throat sounded kinda rough, and when you cry a lot you can get dehydrated, so..."

Surreptitiously, Roman wiped at his face and tried to not feel too embarrassed that the two of them had heard him wail like a toddler who'd had their favourite toy taken away. Before he knew it, he had taken the pills and downed half of the glass while the other two sides unpacked the medical supplies. Virgil really had thought of everything he might have needed.

Roman blinked as he watched them, stunned that he would go to so much effort. "This is very thoughtful of you, Medic Parade."

Virgil paused as he pieced together the nickname, and then scowled. "Mayday doesn't even sound anything like medic- and it's not. I just didn't want to- y'know- get the wrong things and make it worse."

Remus elbowed Virgil in the side, perhaps in an attempt to cheer him up. "Hey, you can't do any worse than what we did the first time Ro got a booboo."

"...And what was that?" Virgil's hesitant tone indicated he wasn't sure if he want to know.

"Nothing!" Remus grinned.

"I'm pretty sure that was just a concussion." Roman stated before Virgil got the wrong idea and thought they were totally stupid, looking upward as he tried to recall the incident Remus was talking about. It felt like forever ago now. "Not like anything could be done, to be fair."

"'Just'-" Virgil made a strange choked sound. "Is this what my life's gonna be now? Having a worry-induced heart attack every 5 minutes?"

"Welcome to the club!" Remus cheered, offering a fist bump which Virgil ignored in favour of burying his head in his hands.

"Goddammit. Alright- let's get this show on the road I guess. Roman, take your shirt off." When Remus' eyebrows started waggling, clearly about to make an inappropriate comment, Virgil waved his hands wildly to stop him. "So we can look at the damage! Shut your mouth Remus!"

"I didn't say anything." He intoned, looking overly smug before turning to Roman expectantly.

Said man frowned, placing the glass of water on the bedside table next to him. Before he made any move, he glanced at Virgil who was looking red either out of Remus-induced embarrassment or frustration. Mood. "You don't have to stick around for this part if you don't want to. It can be a bit much, so I wouldn't blame you."

"I'm not a baby, Roman." Virgil retorted, crossing his arms. "Making sure you don't die or something is way more important than my comfort. I can't promise you'll be safe from me calling you an idiot until you're better, though."

Roman looked away again. Was that condescending of him to ask? He opened his mouth to apologize, before closing it in resignation. No need to make this into an issue; he'll ask Virgil whether he felt belittled later. "...Okay. That's fair."

Instead of going through the pain of trying to remove a shirt with a possibly broken rib, he snapped and it disappeared. He heard a sharp inhale, but in response to what, he didn't know. Roman looked downwards to check. Among the remnants of previous attempts at self-healing (some messier than others), the area around his right rib was inflamed and a large portion of his stomach was splotched with purple. Noticeably, his left arm was also burning red, but luckily it seemed like the fracture there was non-displaced, which hopefully meant it would heal quicker. Other than that, there weren't any major injuries besides his black eye and bloody nose that needed attention. Could be worse, considering how god-awful he felt!

Remus whistled. "You look like someone took a dalmatian and made it the colours of the bi-flag."

"Yeah. That's- weirdly accurate." Virgil winced. "What hurts most?"

"Uh- My arm and my ribs I suppose. They're a little... on the broken side."

"That's what I thought." Virgil muttered under his breath, grabbing the items to make a split. "I'll deal with those first, Remus you help with his nose and the bruising. And if you want to make yourself useful, hold these peas to your eye, dumbass."

"Your bedside manners are impeccable." Roman said sarcastically, taking the bag of peas and exhaling as he adjusted to the cold feeling pressed against his face. "...Here I thought there would be a grace period before you started calling me names."

"Just calling it like I see it." Virgil hummed. With deft fingers, he held the splint under Roman's forearm and began winding the bandages around it. "You should probably make an actual brace later when you're up to it, but hopefully this should keep it in place and remind you to not use it for now."

"But that sides my dominant arm-" Roman whined, about to complain about how he was supposed to get work done until Remus pinched the bridge of his nose none too gently, and he yelped. "Ow! Remus."

"Think of that as payback for the last 15 years." Remus replied lightly. "Tilt your head back."

Begrudgingly, Roman complied, resting his head against the headboard. He stared at the ceiling as his brother and best friend silently worked their way around his injuries, applying topical ointment to his bruises and applying band-aids to small cuts. He didn't even realize they had finished until Remus bonked him on the head.

"All done! Shame it's not Halloween. You could go as a mummy again."

"Ha ha. What a comedian you are." Roman replied in a deadpan, but fought to keep a smile away anyway. The irony of how much he resembled that costume right now definitely wasn't lost on him.

"...I'm sorry for ruining that, by the way." Virgil spoke up suddenly from where he had been packing everything away, breaking the thoughtful silence he'd been in for the past few minutes. "Your costume during the Christmas video, I mean. And saying all of that harsh stuff to make a point."

Roman only stared, taken aback. "All of that happened half a year ago. I'm not upset about that."

"I know, I know. It's just... I've been thinking about it recently, all the times I haven't acted very...good." He bit his lip, averting his eyes. "Especially now, knowing that kind of thing literally hurts you."

"Virgil." Roman sighed softly, taking his hand. Virgil startled but didn't pull away. "You don't need to be 'good' all the time. Wasn't that the point you were trying to get across back then? All of us have made mistakes in our pasts, some more than others, but if you can forgive us for that, then you deserve the same acceptance for your less-than-stellar moments."

"Oh." He said, eyes glassy. His hand tightened around Roman's. "I'm still sorry, if I've ever made things worse for you or if I haven't been supportive enough."

"I- You have-" Roman spluttered worriedly, sitting up.

"It's alright, I already know that we kinda work against each other at times. Part of the job." Roman's mouth closed with a grimace. "Still, it's unfair on you. You shouldn't be expected to perfect, especially not with an asshole like me there to tear into your work. So just...know that it's okay to tell us when you're struggling, okay?"

"Right..." Roman bit his cheek. Virgil seemed well-meaning, but showing that sort of weakness was a concept he still found difficult to accept, even if he had given in this time and allowed himself to be completely seen. Virgil noticed his lackluster agreement and patted him with his free hand.

"Hey. In almost any case we'd embrace you."

"...No one hates you." Roman finished a beat later with a small smile. Virgil's face lit up and moved closer to his side. Upon seeing this, Remus unceremoniously squished himself between the two of them, careful not to bump against Roman too much (although Virgil definitely got the brunt of Remus crawling over him, to his dismay).

"Look at you two, my favourite dorks, bonding over feeling insecure!" He declared, throwing an arm around both of them. "Couldn't be me, but I still love you."

Roman poked Remus' side. "So that wasn't you admitting to being worried earlier?"

"Nope! New phone who dis?"

"You're insufferable." Virgil rolled his eyes fondly. "...I love you guys."

And Roman sighed contently, feeling safe and cared for. Things weren't perfect right now; he still needed time to heal and Remus and Virgil would undoubtedly want him to open up about what happened sooner or later, but for now he was was able to hear that he was loved and believe it to be true, and that was enough.

"I love you both too. Thank you."

#sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #creativitwins #platonic prinxiety #platonic royality #my writing #that's a tag now ig #....i've stared at this for so long idk if it's good anymore #bruised but not broken

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pinky-the-elephant-room · 4 years

Text

Shoot your shot

♡ AN: I got around to writing for Haikyuu! again and this time it’s for Oikawa, can you believe I hated this man so much that I ranted to my friend about him for a hour? Now I’m writing a smut for him the growth we love to see it~ I’m an anime only person and I know some spoilers so ignore any inconsistencies you might see because this is an anime only canon fic.

♡ Oikawa x Brazilian Fem Reader : Playing beach volleyball is a cinch no problem right? But the sight of you in a bikini is too much to bear and having a hard on while playing volleyball is hardly convenient. So when Oikawa sees you in nothing but a towel in the locker room he decides to finally make his move on you.

♡ Warning: Explicit shower smut with 27 year old Oikawa, voyeurism, semi public sex, and maybe a daddy kink at the end? Read at your own discretion.

✯ ✯ ------------------------- ✯ ✯

➢ Portuguese translation

⇢ Y/N, você está aqui? - Y/N, are you in here?

⇢ Sim, ainda estou aqui - Yes, I’m still here.

⇢ Fode me o meu amor - Fuck me, my love.

“Yoohoo! Lucas, how you been?” Oikawa said, stretching out his o’s.

His Argentinean teammate said something, but the reception was terrible.

“Hold on! Let me take this outside.” He stepped out of his air-conditioned flat out into the humid air.

The voice garbled a few more sentences before it became clearer. “C-can you hear me now?”

Oikawa grinned hearing the familiar voice. “Yeah! What’s up?”

Though, he will always cherish his memories with his former team in Japan. Oikawa was now connecting with his national team as well as creating bonds and chemistry on par with his friends back home.

“Alright, amigo, I just did you a huge favor. You’re going to love me and I’m demanding more of that milk bread from you.”

He felt the familiar irritation every time someone claimed his milk bread. Oikawa only shared his milk bread with his teammate because he never tasted the magnificence of the treat. He almost suffered a heart attack when Lucas asked what was so good about bread.

“No promises, but I’m listening,” Oikawa replied as he looked over the night sky of Bueno Aires, it felt gratifying to know that a Japanese boy from a small town now lived in one of the biggest cities in Argentina.

“You remember telling me to help out with your little crush on Y/N, right?”

He rolled his eyes and pouted, “I don’t recall asking for your help! I just asked if she was single. That’s two different things!”

Oikawa remembered when he first saw Y/N at the 2021 Tokyo Olympics, he had been ecstatic to go home despite representing another country. It was his debut performance on a world stage. So, he walked around Tokyo for a while before heading back to his hotel to prepare for his match. When Oikawa turned on his T.V., he noticed it was the Women’s volleyball finals between Brazil and the U.S. It seemed like the Japanese women didn’t make it. He watched for a few minutes absentmindedly before he got distracted by player 24 from Brazil. She was the ace and was quite short, but it seemed like the average height for the female players. She was quite good, stealing point after point from their opponents. But that wasn’t what caught his attention. But rather her amusing victory dance each time she gained a point for her team. Y/N would obnoxiously dance in front of the net making her opponents furious.

Oikawa grinned childishly; he knew she was doing it on purpose as the U.S. team started making amateur errors as the gap between the two teams widened. It was a good strategy, one that he himself used on opponents that irritated him like his former kouhai, Kageyama. But his involved taunting, not twerking in front of his opponents. He didn’t think he would look half as good as she did.

From there, it was mere curiosity as to who the player was. She was quite pretty with her long curly hair and golden skin. He didn’t think he would meet her the very next day as she chatted with Lucas in Portuguese. He had no idea his Spanish speaking teammate even knew Portuguese. She had glanced over to him and introduced herself in rich accented English.

“Hello, I’m Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you.” She held out her hand.

He shook it, marveling at the softness despite the calluses he felt on her palm.

When she left to go find her team, Oikawa turned to Lucas and asked in a casual voice, “soooo… are you two together or something?”

Lucas just grinned at him and shook his head.

“Nah, she’s my how you say… my tomodachi.”

From there Lucas had taken it upon himself to get the two together, which didn’t work well after the Olympics were over as he returned to Bueno Aires and she to Brazil.

“So, anyway I told her that you would do it in place of me! Isn’t that great?” Oikawa snapped out of his thoughts as Lucas continued.

“Wait what? Repeat that last part.”

He heard an aggravated sigh from the phone.

“Y/N participates in a beach volleyball competition every summer for charity. Her usual partner is gone, and she asked me, but I told her that I hurt my ankle. So, I volunteered you for the job!”

Oikawa blinked as the words registered in his mind.

“B-but I’ve never played professional beach volleyball before.”

Sure, he’s played some matches for fun every now and then. But surely a legitimate competition is different than screwing around with a beach ball.

“Ehh, it’s the same sport just with different rules. But don’t let that get in your way. This is your chance!”

Since he came back from Tokyo, Oikawa did sort of miss her and he hadn’t connected with any of the girls he met since.

“Alright fine. Let’s do this. How hard can it be?”

From there Lucas gave Y/N’s number to him. He immediately texted her and they figured out a schedule to practice together a few months before the actual tournament. Thankfully with the Olympics over, he no longer had to be in Argentina for the rigorous team practices and was free to go to Brazil as he pleased. So, a few weeks later he reached the coastal city Ubatuba in Brazil, ready to finally take a crack at beach volleyball.

Oikawa was munching away on his toast when he heard a knock in his hotel room. He quickly downed his breakfast smoothie and made his way to look through the peephole to see Y/N standing outside waiting patiently. He unlocked the door and let her in.

“Hey. How was your flight?” She asked as she kissed his cheek in greeting.

Oikawa felt his face get warm and tried not to get too excited over the fact that she had kissed him. He knew it was part of the friendly culture, but he couldn’t help the flutters that erupted from the gesture.

“Not too bad. Only two hours long.”

“Hope you’re ready to practice today. My friends and I have a court set up at Praia de Santa Rita. It’s a private beach we reserved and afterwards there are tons of restaurants we can go to for dinner,” Y/N said as she looked around the fancy hotel he had booked. He smirked at her reaction of course he deserved nothing but the best.

The two of them stepped out of the hotel and his eyes widened at the sight of her large jeep. Y/N jumped in and waved him inside. He carefully maneuvered himself in, hopefully, she wouldn’t drive too crazily.

“Put on your seat belt, you’ll need it!” Y/N screamed gleefully, and she revved up her jeep before pulling out of the parking lot. Oikawa’s nails dug into the seat’s handles while he held on tightly as she swerved around the tight corners without slowing down. His face continued to pale as she kept driving before finally pulling next to a beach. He carefully let himself out and his legs felt like jelly.

Oikawa gasped out, “y/n, please don’t ever drive again for everyone’s safety.”

He only heard the remnants of her door slamming and her giggles while she walked away. Oikawa followed her coming onto a rest area.

“Ok, this is where the restrooms and locker rooms are. So, get changed if you need to and then just follow the signs down to the beach,” she told him before heading inside herself with a small bag in her hand. He himself had brought along a change of clothes some shorts and a tank top with some sunscreen. Oikawa learned the hard way how important sunscreen was under the intense sun here when he turned into a lobster. After getting changed he found himself on the warm sand with the hot sun beating on his head. There was a volleyball net set up in the middle of the sand and there was a small group there getting warmed up as they spiked the ball from one side to the other.

“Hey! Good you’re here now we can get started,” a voice called from behind him. He turned around to see Y/N dressed in a small violet bikini which left little to the imagination. Her toned body and caramel skin caused his own body to burn with undisguised want.

“Are you playing in that?” He yelped.

Y/N looked down at her bikini confused, not seeing anything wrong with it.

“Yeah? What else would I wear? I mean sand gets everywhere. I can’t exactly wear a volleyball uniform on the beach,” she said with teasingly.

The flush on his cheek became brighter and he couldn’t exactly blame this on the hot sun either.

“So, what do you know about professional beach volleyball, Toru?”

His face immediately blossomed with a smile. He still wasn’t used to people openly calling him by his first name without honorifics despite being out of Japan for a few years now. But with Y/N it sounded natural and perfect coming out of her mouth. Though she didn’t exactly pronounce his name correctly, she rolled the rs too much. Oikawa never tried to correct her because he found her pronunciation absolutely sensual.

“Aren’t the rules mostly the same?”

Y/N shook her head. “Not exactly. A beach volleyball court is smaller and instead of six players, there are only two. Meaning only me and you are going to protect the entire court. There are no setters, liberos, or blockers. The two players usually divide it into two sides, protecting the left and the right. Beach volleyball games are usually faster, and it's usually played to 21 points instead of 25.”

Oikawa now understood why Lucas had readily volunteered him to become her partner. It would require time and dedication to become decent at the game which he was all too ready to bestow on her.

“Is that all?” he asked looking down at her.

Suddenly, he heard loud yells as the ball headed towards their area and he instinctively grabbed it before it hit either of them. But as soon as he touched it, the ball felt weird. It was lighter and bigger than the average volleyball.

“Oh, and the volleyball is different as you can see.”

Y/N patted his back and said, “come on. Let’s start.”

There were two other girls on one side of the court while he and Y/N occupied the other. She passed off the ball to him for his serve. Y/N went to stand in the top left while he served from the right baseline. He was just about to toss up the ball when he noticed something incredible.

Oikawa bit his lip to contain his groan, the sight was pure torture. It wasn’t fair to him and really any man. Y/N was standing in front of him with her knees bent, ready to receive any serve coming her way. There wasn’t anything wrong with her stance, in fact, if she was wearing her volleyball uniform, she would be doing her job like any other volleyball player professional or otherwise. However, in her bikini the forbidden scene made him feel like the worst type of peeping tom. But he couldn’t help it as he messed with the ball in his hand. Her position was perfect for him to saddle up behind her and press his cock against her clothed cunt. Her round ass cheeks were entirely exposed as the bikini bottoms were stretched against her body and the vaginal lips were apparent even against the dark purple fabric.

Which genius made it a thing to play volleyball in bikinis? Whoever it was Oikawa wanted to strangle and thank them from the bottom of his heart all at the same time.

He jerked his face away from Y/N’s body and tossed the ball in the air only to completely miss. The ball just tumbled a few feet from his person. Y/N turned around to give him a concerned look and gave him a thumbs up.

“It’s ok!” she yelled out before focusing back on her opponents. “Keep going!”

‘Don’t look. Don’t look. D-O-N-T! LOOK! Ah fuck it,’ he thought as his eyes went right back to her ass. Honestly, he thought about possible sex with Y/N multiple times, but they were always fantasies with her on the bottom or on top riding him. But never from behind, clearly, he didn’t know what he was missing. His breath hitched when she bent down just a little further before righting herself again. He could probably call for an impromptu break and take her to the side for a private conversation. Maybe finally have that kiss they’ve both been craving for a long time before pushing her against a wall or a tree. He could hike her legs around him and fuck her until her voice was hoarse from screaming his name while her cunt creamed on his cock.

“Come on, Toru! Let’s go!” Y/N yelled as she effectively ruined his daydreams.

Ok, he had to focus now. Absolutely. The ball was once again in the air and he hit it with his palm only for it to hit the net. ….

Was it possible to bury only the face in the sand? He might have a need for that in just a few minutes.

Just as he was about to serve again his eyes wandered right back to Y/N’s backside, but this time she turned around at the same time to meet his eyes. His eyes widened and he quickly faced the front once more.

“Time out!” he heard Y/N say.

Y/N quickly walked towards Oikawa and stared him down.

“Have you been staring at my ass this entire time?”

He swallowed and coolly responded with a “no.”

“I’m not stupid, Toru! Is this going to be a problem for you?” she asked with her arms crossed and stern.

There was no point in lying, she already caught him red-handed so instead, he shrugged.

“It’s not my fault the view’s just too good. I’m only a man,” he said with a low voice.

“Y-you!” She seemed flabbergasted and amused at the same time. Y/N let out a snort and chuckled a few times before snatching the ball from his hands.

“Just go block for now. I’ll serve.” Y/N pointed to the same spot she herself was standing at. Oikawa being entirely shameless just ran his fingers through his hair and winked at Y/N before taking his spot at the front. The two women that were their opponents seemed to be hysterically giggling as well, guess he wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was. So, Oikawa just waved at them good-naturedly and readied himself for a rally.

It looked like Y/N wasn’t as distracted as him because she served without any problems and the game continued. It was much more difficult than he initially thought. While indoor volleyball was a team effort and everyone had to do their part, now Oikawa was responsible for everything. He was running around diving for the ball like a libero and even doing his own spikes as Y/N set a toss perfectly for him. Before he knew it, the game cycled through 6 sets faster than he was used to. That was another thing he noticed beach volleyball’s sets were much faster paced. Usually, he would take his time to dissect and figure out the opponent’s weaknesses before setting up tosses for his team. Now he had no time for that as he dived and ran after the lighter ball. Not only that he had to consider the weather, but the winds were also messing up his shots. Each time he aimed for the tight corners they would get blown out of bounds. Beach volleyball wasn’t harder necessarily, but it was definitely a challenge to learn.

After a couple more sets, Y/N called for a break. She handed him a cold-water bottle from the cooler while she drank some Gatorade.

“So, how long have you been playing beach volleyball?” he asked after swallowing the refreshing water.

“As long as I’ve been playing volleyball. It’s part of the Brazilian team’s routine. Playing beach volleyball actually makes you a better, well-rounded player,” she said as she put the tightened the Gatorade’s lid on and put it back in the cooler.

Y/N stepped closer to him and leaned into his face.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you staring at my ass. I can’t have you missing your serves during the tournament,” She snickered, he felt her hot breath against his ears, causing shivers to erupt across his body.

Oikawa just leaned in even closer, deliberately eyeing her lips for a moment before staring back in her eyes.

“And what exactly do you plan on doing if I don’t stop?”

Instead of getting flustered and putting space in-between them, she instead stepped even closer to him and blinked innocently at him, her eyes dilating and enrapturing him.

“Behave and if you’re a good boy. I’ll reward you, promise,” she muttered just low enough for him to barely hear.

Y/N pecked his cheek and she lingered there for a moment, he could bask in her closeness and smell the remnants of the shampoo from her long hair.

“Y/N! Come on let’s play again,” her friend shouted from halfway across the court.

“Looks like time’s up. I’ll let you serve this time,” Y/N giggled and ran back to start the game again.

Oikawa felt embarrassment choking him on the inside and vowed not to mess up too badly again. He made his way back to the court and grabbed the ball, he deliberately didn’t look at Y/N as she once stood at the front to block. This time he hit one of his more powerful serves and found that most of the power didn’t transfer over to the ball, but he was able to slightly control the ball better this time. The rally continued on until the sun had turned orange and was about to set. Eventually, the group decided on another date they could meet up and practice again for the tournament.

When everything was packed up and put away, he and Y/N made their trek back up the beach to the resting area again.

“Hey, since we won’t be able to practice until next Saturday again. What say me and you practice by ourselves?”

Y/N looked up from her phone and nodded affirmatively.

“Sounds like a good idea. Practice matches once a week probably won’t help unless we get some practice of our own.”

Oikawa bit his lip, hesitating for a minute before asking her.

“Also, since I’m here, you mind showing me around? This is the first time I’ve been to Brazil.”

Y/N again nodded but with more enthusiasm this time as she regaled about tales of the amazing tourist spots and restaurants they could explore in their free time. The two of them went inside the rest area and he went into the men’s locker room to take a quick shower before changing into his clothes. Just as he stripped down and stepped into the shower, he heard a crash and scream coming from the hallway. He turned off the water and tugged a fluffy towel around his waist before walking to track down whatever made the sound. When he walked out to an empty building, he heard Y/N’s voice distinctly cursing coming from the women’s locker room.

“Y/N? You alright?” Oikawa called out, he waited for a few minutes to hear her reply and when she didn’t respond he stepped inside. He peeked inside carefully just in case there were women walking around. He heard some clutter falling onto the floor a few feet away so following the noise he found Y/N in a towel trying to pick up her items.

“You ok?” he asked concerned. Y/N startled and lost her balance, tumbling onto the locker room’s floor.

“Toru, what are you doing in here? This is a woman’s locker room.”

“I know I thought I heard a woman screaming and then I heard your voice, so I came to check if you were ok.”

She sighed and pushed her dripping wet hair from her face. “Yeah, I’m ok I slipped in the shower, and then I realized I brought my phone into the shower, so I came to put it away, only to drop everything inside of my bag.”

Oikawa was about to bend down and help. “Here let me help.”

Y/N held up her hand and replied, “it’s ok I got it.” She gathered all her items and put it all away along with her phone.

Just as she was about to get up, the water that had been dripping from her body and hair gathered on the floor and made the tiles slick. Her foot slipped and she was about to hit the ground hard when Oikawa grabbed her in time before she could. However, Y/N lost her hold on the towel around her body and it exposed her chest and curves to his naked eyes. He quickly turned his head away while keeping a secure grip on her.

“Ahh! Don’t look!” she screamed and slapped her hands over her breasts. “Did you see anything?”

Oikawa swallowed and wished he could tell her no, but he sort of caught a glimpse at the body he had been craving to touch and feast his eyes on since he met her. So, he should opt to keep quiet.

“It’s ok, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before!” Except he panicked and opened his mouth.

“What does that even mean you jerk!” He could feel her try to pull away from his arms.

“Wait that came out wrong, I swear!”

Oikawa turned back around and felt blindsided by Y/N’s beauty. She was soaked to the bone, but never did she look more beautiful to him than in that moment.

“You’re so….” He trailed off. She looked at him a little confused and quit trying to pull away.

“So what?”

He leaned in and caressed her cheek. Oikawa didn’t finish his sentence and instead just connected their two lips. As he sensually captured her lips, Y/N eagerly responded back to him as if she had been desperately waiting for this just like he was. Keeping one hand on her chin to angle her face, his other hand traveled down to her naked bosom. He reverently caressed and tweaked her dusky peaks while expertly maneuvering the kiss. Y/N whimpered with want when his tongue brushed up against hers. He smirked at her reactions as her breathing started getting more erratic and her cute noises became louder and louder. They only broke apart when he heard people approaching the locker rooms.

Just as Oikawa was about to move away from Y/N, she grabbed his hand.

“The far-left shower at the end,” she jerked her head towards it.

He smiled with excitement knowing that she wanted to continue as much as he did. Grabbing and picking her up like she weighed nothing, he hurried to the shower and tugged the shower curtain shut.

Just in time too as he could hear women laughing and talking in Portuguese.

“Y/N, você está aqui?” a woman called out.

Y/N for her part looked startled at being addressed and pushed away Oikawa’s hands that were still playing with her chest.

“Sim, ainda estou aqui,” Y/N responded in a clear voice. She shot a warning look to Oikawa as his hands found themselves back on her hips and making their way back up. He only cheekily smirked at her and returned to pawing at her cleavage. She waited for a few minutes to hear her friend’s footsteps retreating before pulling Oikawa closer and aggressively kissing him. He tugged the towel around his waist off and hiked Y/N’s silky legs around him.

He carefully maneuvered to turn the shower’s knob and set her against the wall while a jet of hot water poured over them. And Oikawa went right back to devouring her mouth and grinding against her hot cunt. As soon as his cock made contact with her tingling clit, Y/N’s body spasmed and she tried to tug him closer. Her ankles interlocked at his waist and she tried to thrust below to encourage him to enter her. But he only chuckled at her excitement and continued to slowly slide back and forth. Y/N forgetting for a moment where she was exactly, enraged by his teasing smacked his thigh loudly enough to echo in the locker room. Oikawa let out a low grunt and thrust full throttle into her. Her eyes widened at the sudden entry and she couldn’t even contemplate the fullness before he withdrew quickly once again.

“Fode me o meu amor,” Y/N begged.

Oh, that just wasn’t playing fair. He didn’t know what she said but her breathless voice and her needy eyes made him helpless.

As if he could no longer bear to be apart without the drenched enclosed intimacy, he reentered without warning. Oikawa fucked her with the same hell-bent concentration he played volleyball with. She covered her mouth with her hand to contain the moans, that only muffled the noises rather than stopping them completely. The faster pace caused Y/N to skid up and down on the shower walls. She tried to find purchase against the tiles, but the hot water droplets caused her to loosen the grip. His breathing got heavier and uneven, why was it he could handle hours of volleyball, but the vise grip of her cunt made him want to spill inside of her like an immature adolescent? He removed her hand covering her moist lips and thoroughly kissed her. He swallowed her moans and they stood in the shower making love for god knows how long. His hand found her engorged clit and his middle finger started pressing slow circle while his thumb and point finger started pinching it in time to his thrusts. Just as she was about to cum, Y/N buried her face in his neck. She bit down hard on his shoulder trying to contain the shrieks she wanted to let out. It wasn’t long before her spiral started to pull him as well, the constriction creating a perfecting suction to swallow his juices. He placed a hand on the wall to stabilize himself just before he pulled out of her and came all over her thighs. The water soon washed away all the evidence of their tryst as it flowed down the drain.

“Does the hot water feel that good?” Y/N’s friend called out. Soon of the other ladies started giggling and laughing along. “We’re leaving! See ya, Y/N!”

The two of them didn’t move from their spot until they heard the sounds of lockers being shut and the ladies’ voices being fading further and further away.

“I think they knew…” Y/N gasped a little embarrassed and horrified.

On the other hand, Oikawa kept smiling like a goof. “I love beach volleyball now! It’s my favorite kind.”

She let out a frustrated groan. “Just get out of my way. I need to get dressed before I prune even more.”

“Maybe next time you should call me papi,” he hollered out as Y/N started to dry herself and got dressed.

“There won’t be a next time if you don’t get your butt dressed soon or I’ll leave you behind.”

Y/n when she was all dressed up and ready to go, waited for him outside of the resting area. He came out joyfully whistling away and ready to leave. Oikawa slung his arm over Y/N’s shoulder and pulled her close. He was finally taking the chance to get closer to her like he always wanted.

“You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?” she asked tickled with his antics.

He leaned in and pecked her forehead. “You know it,” Oikawa said with a wink.

#oikawa x you #oikawa headcanons #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #toru x reader #oikawa smut #haikyuu! fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #oikawa toru imagine #oikawa toru x y/n #oikawa toru x you

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pl-panda · 3 years

Text

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 7

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

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At least their purchases were found undamaged. That was a little upside to the disaster of the supervillain attack. Marinette suspected Tikki might’ve had something to do with this, but didn’t comment. Police kept the rope dart as evidence, but they promised to return it as soon as it was possible. Marinette gave Gordon her number (after the commissioner was vouched for by Damian) and number to her mother. It was a possibility that she would’ve been called to court to testify. She was a prime witness and while her involvement declared only self-defense, Gordon told her in all honesty that the lawyer might try to put some blame on her. It was a sad reality, but Damian reassured both his beloved and the commissioner that they would be prepared. Waynes kept a contingent of lawyers not without reason.

The teens were picked up by Alfred before the press figured out who the mysterious hero of the day was. Marinette really didn’t need more lights on her. It was enough that she agreed to make her relationship with Damian Wayne public at the gala. Objectively, she knew it was a better option than for the press to learn from students of Gotham Academy. Inside, she was dreading the event anyway.

When they arrived at the manor, Sabine, Tom, and Bruce were waiting for them. The girls launched themselves at the woman and she pulled them into a hug. Damian followed slowly, not revealing any emotions.

“I received a call from Jim,” Bruce began once they were behind the closed doors, “something about Firefly and brave teens stopping the attack.” He looked at all three of them with a judging glare. It wasn’t that he was disappointed, but it made the teens feel under deep scrutiny.

“It was all me!” Marinette confessed immediately. “He stopped us from escaping and we were with a bunch of kids. I just acted and I might have kinda accidentally… defeated him.” She spoke very fast.

“Don’t worry, Sweetie. We’re not angry or anything.” Sabine quickly reassured her while sending a glare at Bruce.

“Well… Yes.” The billionaire nodded slowly. “But you could’ve been more careful.”

“Ridiculous!” Chloé stared at the Wayne patriarch. “Utterly ridiculous! Of course, Dupain-Cheng could’ve just run away and left those poor lost kids to die, but she stayed.”

“I didn’t mean…” The man tried to speak, but the blonde ignored him.

“But no! Mr. Batman thinks that suddenly protecting others without the suit is somehow wrong. I didn’t see you on the scene at all. There was Red Hood, but he arrived there only after Mari already took out that flying pyromaniac.”

“I just…”

“So don’t go off on us preaching safety when you have your kids running on the rooftops every night.”

“But…” Bruce had no idea what just happened. He only wanted to congratulate them…

“I did get all the fabrics I will need, but we didn’t get to eat.” Mari decided to change the subject and spare her father-in-law further humiliation at Chloé’s hands.

“The lunch will be ready in five minutes. You can take it in the dining room.” Alfred spoke from behind Bruce, startling the poor billionaire. It was apparently not his day.

When the group moved there and took their seats, joined by Cass, who was the only other permanent resident of the Manor, Marinette decided on the next subject.

“And how did the Class trip go?” She asked her mother with a bright smile. The woman sent her a tired look in response.

“They are monsters. I sympathize with their parents if that’s how they act every day…”

“They can’t be that bad, love.” Tom tried to defend the kids, but several stares from around the room would kill him if it was possible. “I meant can. My English is bad. I meant can.” He raised his hands in surrender.

“That Lila girl is indeed a talented manipulator when she is not going overboard. If I didn’t know her, I might’ve actually fallen for her lies. And she even doesn’t resort to lies anymore.”

“What?!” Marinette was glad that she only got the lunch served and didn’t yet eat anything. “No way!”

“Yes. It looks like she established herself as an internet star to the point where she is somewhat famous.”

“Tt. She is still a harlot.” Damian muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

“The modeling for the Gabriel brand and Ladyblog. Outside of Paris, it would make her into a star of some internet super-hero show in addition to a front-page model!” Marinette was suddenly enlightened. “I can’t believe her lies actually worked!” She collapsed in her chair, resigned. “Guess lying did work for her in the end…” Her face took a look of a beaten puppy.

“Say a word, Angel, and we can make you into three times the star she might be,” Damian spoke and Chloé nodded in agreement.

“It’s not that!” The bluenette tried to protest. “I just… Her lies hurt people. I told her that it wouldn’t work in the long run, and she proved me wrong ten times over…”

“Lila… bad.” Cass frowned. “Hurt Nettie.”

“Cass…” The girl tried to say something, but her cousin continued.

“I will… hurt Lila.” She stated confidently.

“No!” Marinette protested. “I’ve got enough trouble stopping Damian and my mom!”

“She is bad,” Cass stated confidently.

“Cassandra.” Bruce glared at his daughter, but before he could explain things to her, Sabine intervened.

“Sweetie, I appreciate you wanting to help Mari, but we must also respect her wishes. Even if I already have a place chosen… Never mind.” She smiled brightly before anyone questioned her.

The whole table exploded into laugher while Damian and Cass smiled wider than usual. It was just such… a familial scene. Like they weren’t a bunch of superheroes, but a happy family. Even if the talk was about murder.

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In a dark, damp room two people stood opposite one another. The male figure had a dark purple suit with the signature butterfly brooch pinned to the top of the shirt. His chest was protected by two black flaps that looked a bit like the moth wings. In his black gloves, he held a cane topped with a purple orb. The face was covered by a simple domino mask that did nothing to hide the mane of blonde hair on top of his head.

On the opposite was a woman in a dark-blue dress that hugged her figure very tightly. The clothing ended barely above her bust, continuing with a sparkly net that was almost translucent. From under the cut starting just below the belt, her legs were also visible and covered in the same sparkly net. The blue/purple of her skin clashed slightly with the dress, but the sparkles of the fancy net managed to offset it to the point it was barely noticeable. Her deep-blue hair was pinned back into a rather messy bun with two long strands framing her face.

“Are you sure?” The young man asked.

“Don’t worry,” she dismissed. “My grandma reassured me that this is perfectly safe. Besides, it’s too late to stop now.” She grinned and pointed her folded fan at the ground. When she unfolded it, several candles lit with pink flames, bathing the room in an eerie light. The light reached to three bodies laid in circles drawn with their blood. The two figures in the center were also in a runic circle.

“The bond will not interfere with my Princess?”

“Whatever that vile American did to her must have hurt her badly. You do want to save her and lift the curse, right?” She grinned when there was a new fire in his eyes. “And I told you about my demands.”

“I’m still not convinced.” He glared at her. “And I told your grandfather that his demands are ridiculous.”

“They are my demands.” She corrected him in an amused voice. “If you don’t want my help…”

“Fine. I will do it.” He suddenly closed the distance between them until they were face to face. “But don’t even try to trick me. I’ll know and I will end you. Nothing will stop me from getting what I want.”

In response, she gave him a quick peck on the lips. Immediately, the boy recoiled. She just licked her lips. “Whatever you want, beloved.”

“Ugh. Let’s just get done with this.”

The candles went out one by one when the female chanted in Latin. When the twelfth and last one died out, the room was once more dark. Then, the runes lit and red light enveloped both of them. She reached to the center and grabbed a small goblet. After taking a sip, she handed it to the boy.

He hesitated for a moment, but then also took a sip. They were both enveloped in deep scarlet light until it died out and both of them fell unconscious on the ground.

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Marinette and Chloé had to go with the class for the next trip, which was to the Botanic Garden. Damian and surprisingly Cass also joined them. And this was how the class almost signed their death warrant and handed it to Sabine.

As soon as the guide started speaking about various plants they had there, Alya and Lila started gossiping in the back.

“...told you she was a…”

“...I can’t believe he would…”

“...and that black-haired…”

“If it was up to…”

“I bet she just…”

“Maybe it’s a thing here?”

Finally, Sabine had enough. She asked the guide for a five minutes break to rein in the misbehaving group. Caline tried to protest, but she was silenced when the older woman looked her in the eyes with fires of fury.

“Listen up, because I’m not going to be repeating myself.” She started. “Cassandra is my niece, who lives in Gotham. By a lucky turn of events, she turned out to know Damian and agreed to accompany me and Marinette today.” She glared at every student in the group. Sabine noted that Alix stood alone in the back, separate from Max and Kim. “She is a precious little bean and if any of you dare to say anything bad about her again without even trying to talk to her first, I will personally see to it that your trip will be very-” She made sure to put emphasis on the word “-unpleasant. And if you even think about hounding her, I will see you suspended.”

“Now… Sabine, I think you’re…” Madame Bustier tried to defuse the situation.

“Caline. It is, and always will be for you, Madame Cheng. I’m on this trip to make sure they behave. If you’re not going to help me, try not to make my job harder than it already is.” She huffed and looked back at the class. “Am I understood?”

Several barely audible “Yes” could’ve been heard if someone tried hard enough.

“Good for now.” Sabine looked at their guide. “I’m sorry I had to interrupt.”

“No worries Mrs. Cheng.” The woman chuckled. “Anyone who tries to badmouth Cassandra or anyone from her family deserves your wrath.”

“Good. We can continue.” And so the group moved on.

Lila decided to change the subject of her lies and now kept talking about how good friends she was with Damian Wayne, or rather her Damiboo. It was clear that their guide wanted to add something, but Marinette’s boyfriend made a gesture to stop him. The grin on his face made it clear he had different plans.

After they finished the trip, the class was placed in the bus with Sabine while Damian and the girls were left free to wander around. Some tried to protest, but one murderous glare from Madame Cheng shut them up hard.

“Why Marinette and Chloé are allowed to wander around with some boy, while we are confined to the Hotel!?” Kim protested.

“Yeah! Lila can’t even meet her boyfriend!”

“It’s simple.” Sabine cut them off. “Marinette and Chloé are staying with Damian’s family, which is their host family for this trip. You will be meeting your host families after the new year.” She couldn’t stop herself from rubbing some more salt into Lila’s wound. She might be an adult, but it doesn’t stop her from being petty sometimes. Especially when someone decides to speak badly about her favorite (and hopefully only) niece. “If your… Damiboo was missing you so much, you could’ve asked him to invite you. Cassandra said he is attending Gotham Academy. I’m sure he would love to have you stay with him at Wayne Penthouse.”

“Oh! He did want me so badly with them, but we agreed that it would be better for me to get to know some of his friends.” Lila answered quickly and Damian had to stiffen a groan. How could someone be so dense?

“Suuure.” Sabine grinned. “Then please don’t complain about the situation of your own making.” It was clear that the discussion was over. Damian, Marinette, Chloé, and Cass were left to their own device.

“Chlo, I love you like the best friend you are,” Mari started when they were alone, “but Damian’s got a date planned. So bye!” She said before running off with her husband, leaving the flabbergasted blonde and the noirette alone.

“Ice cream?” Cass pleaded.

“Fine. I guess I can hang out with you then.”

“Ice Cream!” The other girl almost jumped in the air.

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The couple walked through the gardens in silence, holding hands and enjoying the cool air around them. The temperature was warmer than outside, but still rather frosty. Marinette, feeling bolder, dragged Damian’s hand down slightly and pulled him closer to her. She cuddled into his shoulder and smiled. After dealing with the class, it was nice to have some peace, only the two of them.

“So…” She started with a grin. “Wayne penthouse?”

“Tt. For your information, it’s where Drake and Brown live.”

“But Damiboo! You wound me! And I thought we could stay there together.” Marinette did her best Lila impression.

He tried to scowl, but the end result was an unholy mix between scowling and grinning.

They wandered around, laughing at occasional jokes and generally enjoying the time. At some point, Marinette dragged him to a hot-dog cart to enjoy what she called a ‘taste of America’. He couldn’t help but smile at some of her antics. They stopped for some coffee to rest their legs. He allowed her to talk most of the time, listening to all the details of her new outfit for Jagged Stone.

“...so I decided to replace half of the usual silver studs with golden ones. Or rather gold-colored. He doesn’t actually like the wealth display that much and is all for replacing it with cheaper ones. When his producer one time tried to force me to make him everything with the actual gold, Jagged signed it and immediately donated it to The Gotham Orphanage.”

“I remember.” Damian’s memory flashed him an article about it. “And don’t be modest. It held your signature too.”

“Well… He wanted to throw it to Fang first. It was so much not his style.” She smiled. “Bob almost had a stroke when he learned that he still had to pay for it full price. I think it was actually the first commission I accepted that was not priced like clothes for friends. I did deduce the cost of materials that he provided though.”

“Habibti. You’re amazing.”

She blushed at the compliment. “I’m not! I’m just a normal girl.”

“An amazing normal girl.”

“How can you be so smooth and so socially awkward at the same time?!” She squeaked.

“Because people are fools. You are perfection incarnated.”

“Stop it!” She giggled. “I’m not! I’m clumsy and awkward.”

“It doesn’t stop you from being perfect.” He countered. Before she could protest, he lifted a cookie and put it in her mouth. She bit it and munched it in silence. When she swallowed, he continued feeding her. In retaliation, she picked some whipped cream and gave it to him. They ended up feeding one another and laughing.

It was slowly getting dark, so they started walking toward where Alfred would pick them up. They still had some time, so Mari dragged Damian into the music store. There was a whole stand for Jagged Stone discs.

Marinette, feeling devious, pulled out a marker and signed two before handing it to Damian. He thought for a short moment before making a small heart next to her name and putting down his autograph too. They hid the discs behind others and moved on. In the end, Marinette bought some ballet music for Cass that Damian told her she didn’t have yet. The bluenette liked her cousin and wanted to get her something for ditching her with Chloé

When they exited the store, Alfred was waiting there, ready to take them to the Manor. The two sat in the back of the limousine in silence, cuddled together. By the time they arrived at their destination, Marinette had dozed off. Not having the heart to wake her, Damian did his best to gently lift her and carry her to her room. Somewhere along the way, she clutched to him tightly and didn’t let go even when he placed her on the four-poster bed. He sighed. He didn’t know if he would survive the teasing he would receive after someone finds them. Scratch that. Sabine would kill him before that.

Still, he would have to wake her up. With one more look to make sure the doors were closed, he lied next to her and stared up. He could at least stay awake, right?

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